Goodbye Is Never Forever
by loveintheimpala
Summary: Dean is on his way home from his first tour in the army, and the only thought on his mind is the family he left behind. But one of them is hiding a secret. Dean is desperate to discover what his little sister has been up to in his absence, and it's only when she shows him that Dean realises it's far more terrifying and deadly that he could ever have imagined. AU. Sisfic.
1. Coming Home

_Well, hello, hello;-)_

 _Obviously, this is totally AU from SPN, there's no hunting or demons or monsters or anything (yet!). I can't promise anything;-) In fact, there more than likely will be some hunting._ _Honestly, I don't know what possessed me to write this, but I was feeling happy and cheery and, for once, wanted to write something that wasn't filled with crying and sad stuff. Dean would be 22, Alison 19, and Sam 18._

 _Hope you enjoy._

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter One: Coming Home**

Dean stared out of the window, the side of his head rested against the cool glass, and watched as the trees lining the side of the highway melted together into one unending, green blur. The sun shone down from the clear blue sky above and the road ahead of them was a peaceful one. He could feel the breeze hitting his face from a nearby open window, and he found himself smiling. He was heading home. After what seemed like a lifetime away from his family, he was finally on his way back to them. And, it was the thought of one person in particular that turned his smile to a grin.

Dean could still picture the way his little sister had looked the day that he had said goodbye to her. It was something that he would never, _ever_ , allow himself to forget, because it was an image that had run through his mind every single day since. In fact, he had made sure of it. He wouldn't allow himself to forget her, he refused to let the image of her slip from his mind, or fade from his memories. He wouldn't take the chance of not remembering every little thing about the girl who had been his best friend for almost eighteen years of his life, because she was home. While he had been away, when things had gotten tough, she was the thing that would keep him sane, the thought of going back to her. He would remain strong for her, because he had promised her that they day he had left.

That had been fifteen months ago, and he was more than aware that she probably wouldn't be that same seventeen year old girl anymore. She had been a week away from eighteen when he had left, and now she was almost nineteen and a half. A part of him couldn't help but think about how much he had missed out on, but he wouldn't dwell on it. Nothing had changed between them, and he was more than sure of that. He glanced down at the camouflage jacket on the seat beside him and gave a small sigh, no, nothing had changed.

The last time Dean had seen her there had been tears in her eyes and a grin on her face. Her blonde hair had been pulled back from her face and had fallen in soft, gentle waves over her shoulders. Some way, he still didn't know how or why, their mother had beaten the timeless battle and gotten her into a dress for the occasion, and he clearly remembered the sense of realisation washing over him, she wasn't a kid anymore, his sister had been more of an adult on that day than he had _ever_ given her credit for. In that moment, she had looked so much like their mother it had been almost scary.

Alison had been the last one of his family to say goodbye to him, almost as though she had been putting it off, like it was something she had simply not wanted to do. His mother and father, his brother, they were all too prepared to wish him luck, to hug him and tell him that they would see him soon, but she had hung back, standing towards the side and looking on at them, nervous.

Dean had smiled at her, and she had smiled back, automatic, the way she _always_ did, it had been small and shaky, the best she could manage up at the time, but still there. And that was when he had truly seen it, after months of her acting, knowing the day was coming, she had been terrified of it. It had been as though she couldn't force her feet to move towards him, something was stopping her, holding her there, she hadn't wanted to say goodbye to him, because that would make the whole thing real. Not that she would ever let him know, unaware that he had already worked it all out for himself, Alison was afraid of saying goodbye to him.

There hadn't been many days in their lives that they had not seen each other. Dean and Alison had been best friends from the moment John and Mary Winchester had walked through the front door with the little pink blanket in their arms. There had been nothing that would come between the two of them, they had always had each other's backs, through anything. And that day had been no different. From the moment Dean had told her he was leaving, Alison had been nothing but proud of him and his choices. She had admired his bravery, his selflessness, his commitment, and she had been nothing but happy for him. But all that had been before she had factored in the hardest part, the part where he walked away and left them.

"C'mere, kiddo." Dean had said to her, extending his arm out in her direction, and, after a long moment, she had stepped forwards to him. He had wrapped his arms around her tightly, and she had done the same to him, her fists clutching to the back of his jacket with everything she had in her, like she could keep him there with her forever and never let him go. She had told him, it wasn't that she didn't want him to go, it was more that Dean had always been her rock, her strength, the one she turned to with anything, and the thought of him not being there everyday was hard to accept. He had understood, because the thought of not having his sister there with him wasn't an easy idea to accept, either. "I'm gonna miss you." he said softly, rubbing a hand up and down her back gently.

Alison had pulled back enough to face him and she had nodded slowly. There had been tears shining in her green eyes, blurring her vision to the point she could barely make out the soft smile in his features. "Yeah," she agreed. "I'm gonna miss you, too, Dean."

Dean rested his hand to her cheek for a small moment, as though trying to memorise every little detail of her. It was a rare occasion that he would be so caring with her, especially in front of other people, but, at that point in time, he hadn't given it too much thought. That day, all joking and play fighting had taken a backseat, and he was more sincere with her than he had ever been before. Almost. "Now, listen to me, this is important," he began, his voice stern, but there had still been the slightest hint of a smirk as he spoke. "No crying, no boys, and no keggers while I'm gone, 'kay? Especially the boys, or you're in trouble when I come home."

Alison had tried her hardest to laugh, but the tears had slipped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He had reached up and wiped them away gently with the backs of his fingers. "I'll be back before you know it." he told her softly, his voice sincere. "You'll see."

She had nodded slowly, trying her best to agree with him. "Please, be careful." There had been a pleading in her voice, and he had swallowed back the lump in his throat, refusing to let the emotion show in front of her. Not there. Not that day.

"I will be." he assured her. "I promise. I'll come home."

Alison had managed to smile at him, really smile, through her tears. "I love you, bro." Her voice cracked over the words, but she hadn't noticed. "I'm so proud of you."

Dean had pulled her towards him once again, and he hugged her tighter than before, stronger than he had held her in a long, long time. "I love you, too, sis." he told her, quiet enough that only she heard him say it. "Goodbye isn't forever, Ali, remember that."

And that had been the last thing he had said to her face in almost a year and a half. Dean had missed his sister every single day he had been away, and she had been the only thing on his mind since he had gotten on the plane back to the US. They had spoken on the phone, they had written to each other, but none of it could compare to being back home with his family.

And he knew, in less than an hour, he would be.


	2. Reuniting

_Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter:-)) And thank you to those of you who have favourited and followed it, your support means the world!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!:-)_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Two: Reuniting**

 _Lawrence, Kansas - 11:32 am_

Dean cleared his throat as he knocked on the front door of his home. He wasn't quite sure what possessed him to knock, there was a car parked on the driveway, which clearly gave away that at least _someone_ was home, and, failing that, he had a key to the door in his pocket. Yet, he stood there and he waited, until he heard the shuffling sound of someone leaving the kitchen and heading down the hallway towards the door. He could make out the curled blonde hair through the small, glass panel in the wood, and a smile spread across his face. He had waited a long time for this moment.

The smile on his face quickly became a grin as his mother pulled open the door, and her eyes went wide at the sight of him. For a moment, she had looked as though she were going to say something, maybe to greet whoever it was on the other side of the door, but everything came to a complete stop when her green eyes fell to the man standing before her. She looked as though someone had slapped her in the face.

"Dean?" she breathed out, and a smile spread across her face.

Dean didn't miss how her lip quavered the slightest bit, or how the tears seemed to well up in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to burst into tears. It was as though she was seeing her son for the first time in what felt like forever. For him to be away for so long was hard, but knowing where he was, what he was doing, how dangerous it could be for him, to know that there was always the possibility he wouldn't come home again, it made it so much harder. Spending birthdays without him, Christmas without him, even just having a family dinner without him, it always felt like a part of the family was missing. And having him there before her again, a part of it all didn't feel real. She had prayed every night for him to come home soon, for him to be okay, and there he was. Alive and well, standing on their doorstep.

He didn't respond to her at all for a long moment, he didn't even look as though he had registered her words. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but nothing left him. The grin on his face only seemed to grow wider.

"Hey, Mom." he eventually replied, his voice seemed quiet and distant from there, like it wasn't him that had said it.

"Dean." Mary looked him up and down slowly, as if to ensure he was really there, and she almost sobbed his name. She stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him tightly, running her fingertips through the back of his short hair. "We've missed you."

Dean tightened his arms around her middle as he returned her hug, and he smiled to himself. He had missed her more than he had even realised. Being back there, having her hold him, it was surreal. He had imagined it a million times while he had been away, what it would be like to come home, what she would say when she saw him again, and there he was. Home.

"I missed you, too, Mom." he said quietly, pulling back enough to face her. There were tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

"Come inside, honey." she told him, moving aside for him to enter the house.

Dean stepped inside, and she closed the door behind them as she followed. It seemed like a lifetime since he had been there, and something seemed so different. The house usually seemed so busy, so full of life and people, but it was silent. He was so used to coming home and having his mother there cooking dinner, his father coming home from work. His brother would be reading a book somewhere, his sister there to greet him with a sarcastic comment and a smirk, but there was nothing. No one.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, curious.

Mary stepped past him and led the way into the kitchen. "You know Sam isn't here, right?" she asked him, glancing back to ensure he was following. "He's headed up to Stanford to check out his apartment before he starts there."

Dean nodded slowly as he realised, he had honestly forgotten about that. "Yeah, I know, I spoke to him the other day." He smiled a little, sitting down on one of the chairs at the counter. "I can't believe he's going to college. He sounded so excited about it."

"I know." Mary chuckled softly as she leaded against the counter, facing him. "I've never seen him so happy, he can't wait to start. He's worked so hard to get himself there."

Dean could see the pride in her as she spoke about his brother, and it brought a smile to his face. He was proud of him, a small part of him just wished that he had been there. He missed Sam, and he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed that he wasn't there. "What about Dad? And Ali?" he pressed.

"Uh, your Dad's at work, he should be home soon." she said lightly. "And Alison's out. She said she wouldn't be late."

Dean nodded slowly. "How is she?"

"She's alright." Mary said simply, but Dean couldn't help but notice she didn't look at him as she said it. For a second, he could have sworn she looked worried. But, whatever emotion had flashed across her face, it was quickly replaced with a bright smile. "She's doing good. It was hard for her, when you first went away. She misses you, a lot. We all do." Dean nodded, but he said nothing. "But she's so proud of you, Dean, that much I know."

"She still working at that nursing home?" he asked.

Mary nodded. "Yeah, she's still there. She loves it, keeps saying she's going to bring her elderly friends home for dinner." She chuckled. "She's actually been going to a lot of college weekends lately, you know."

Dean raised an eyebrow, that took him by surprise. His sister had never seemed interested in college. Ever. She had always seemed to laugh off the idea. "Really?"

"Yeah, she went over to Illinois a couple weeks ago. She's been down to Mississippi, uh, over to Arizona, up to Montana. She can't decide."

"Huh." Dean thought it over for a moment, he couldn't imagine his sister being interested in college, at all. It just didn't seem like her.

"We were shocked, too." she quipped. "She came home one day and told us, completely out of the blue, but she seems dead set on it."

"Wow." Dean commented. "Good for her."

"Hey, you must be hungry, you want me to fix you something to eat?" Mary asked him.

Dean thought for a moment, but he shook his head. "Uh, no, no, I'm good, thank you." he said. "So, where did you say Ali was?"

"Alison? She went out with some friends, I'm sure she'll be back soon, Dean." But there was a look on her son's face that she recognised, she sighed, defeated, and a fond smile found it's way to her face. "But, of course, you're not going to wait on her, are you?" She reached behind her and picked up a set of car keys, handing them to him. "Go find her, she'll love to see you."

Dean smiled at her. "Thanks, Mom."

Mary nodded, resting her hand to his cheek gently for a moment, as though she was studying him. "I'm so happy you're home, honey."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Me, too."

* * *

 _Lawrence, Kansas - 12:49 pm_

Dean pulled up the car and glanced out over the field before him. It hadn't taken him long to work out where his sister could be, there were only so many places that kids her age would hang out on a day like that. It was busy, as though all of the kids in town had taken advantage of the weather and headed there. His eyes scanned the crowd, and that was when he saw her. His face broke into a grin at the sight. She stood with another four girls, completely oblivious to the fact her brother was staring at her from across the field.

Even from where he stood, Dean could hear her laugh clearly, and he chuckled to himself at the sound. Alison always seemed so happy, she always seemed to be smiling, no matter what, he had missed that about her. She wore some white jeans, even in the burning sun, and he smiled at the thought. It was so typical for her. She wore a black vest and a sleeveless, denim jacket with it, one that he was pretty sure had sleeves attached to it when he had left. The black sunglasses she wore hid her face, but he didn't miss her bright smile. He couldn't help but notice as he watched her, she was so grown up, she looked so happy right there. Simply standing there and talking to her friends, nothing too exciting, but he could almost feel the energy she had.

Alison always seemed to be so present, with anything. No matter what, she was always right there in the moment. She didn't worry about the future, ever, and a part of him was sure that was why she had never followed in Sam's footsteps and gone to college. She didn't care about the past, once it was over she would barely give it a second thought. She was always just there, happy. And that was something he had always admired about her.

It was at that moment, one of her friends seemed to notice him, standing there and watching her as he leaned against the car. He watched as she said something to the girl standing next to her, and, whatever it was, seemed to take his sister's attention. She glanced back over her shoulder, not looking to be thinking too much into it, and her eyes scanned the crowd. But then she saw him, and she froze. She turned completely, facing him straight on, the smile now gone from her face, and she stared back.

Dean watched as she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head as he began to walk towards them, and the shock was nothing but evident on her face.

Alison stood there for what seemed like forever, just staring at him, as though her mind couldn't process the sight before her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open, she looked completely frozen on the spot, as though she couldn't move a muscle, and something about it reminded him of that day fifteen months ago. He stopped walking and grinned at her, eyebrows raised, giving a small shrug, as if to say that the rest was up to her.

Slowly, almost hesitant, Alison began to move. She walked slowly, never blinking, tentative, like she wasn't sure that it was actually happening. She had been through the idea of him coming home a million times in her head, she had waited and waited for the day he would return, and now it was happening, it was as though she wasn't even there. She could feel her legs moving gradually faster, but somehow it didn't seem a reality. She broke into a sprint and ran right at him, and he didn't even have the time to speak before she lunged herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. The force was enough to knock him back a couple of steps.

Dean laughed, and he brought his arms up to hold her around her middle, just as tightly.

Alison didn't even realise that she was doing it, but Dean felt her hands tighten the grip on the back of his t-shirt. It was as though she was trying to pull him closer, clinging onto him as though a part of her thought that he would disappear again should she let go. She wasn't sure the last time she had felt like that, she was torn between laughing and crying, and, right there, she was doing both at the same time. Everything just seemed better, safer, when Dean was home.

Dean's arms secured around her tighter, firmer, when he felt her shoulders give the smallest shake, and her feet were no longer touching the ground. There was no denying the overwhelming emotion when the softest whimper left her, or when he heard her draw a shaky breath, somehow mixed in with a laugh. Her face buried into the front of his shoulder, but he said nothing as her hands fisted tightly in the material of his t-shirt, unwilling to let go.

It didn't even feel real that he was there, but he was, and that was all that mattered.

Dean was home, and everything seemed okay. For the first time in a long time, since he had gone away, it didn't feel as though there was a piece missing from their family. Things had been different without Dean, somehow the house had suddenly seemed so quiet. There had been no one there for her to bicker with, no one who would have childish arguments with her about nothing. There was no one there to play fight with her when it was raining and they were all stuck in the house. Somehow, even with four of them still living there, it had just been quiet.

Eventually, seeming reluctant, Alison pulled back enough to look up at him, and her feet found the grass beneath her again. There were tears in her eyes, staining her cheeks, though she looked nothing but happy.

"Hey, Kiddo." he grinned. Alison laughed, working to compose herself a little, saying nothing for a moment. Dean rolled his eyes at her and wiped the tears from her face. "My god, you're such a sap. You cry when I leave, you cry when I'm home..."

Alison shook her head. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming home?"

Dean gave a soft shrug and chuckled. "Surprise."

" _Surprise_?" Alison repeated, shoving him playfully in the chest. "Man, I had a whole welcome home party planned for you. We were gonna have beer pong."

Dean rolled his eyes at her. "Beer pong? Really, Alison?"

"Hey, Dad was all for it." she said, sounding a little offended. "He even said he'd talk Mom into playing."

"Mom?" Dean thought on her words for a moment. "I'm kinda regretting not calling, you know." he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Alison nodded, her face serious. "And so you should be."

Dean scoffed, shaking his head at her, an amused smile on his face. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

"Well," She shrugged. "Someone had to cover for you while you were away." Her face became a little more serious, and her eyes found his. "I really missed you, Dean."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I missed you, too, sis."

Dean opened his mouth to say more, but something caught his attention, and the smile fell from his face, any words in his mind instantly forgotten about. He narrowed his eyes at her, there was a dark bruising down one side of her arm, something that he hadn't noticed until then. It was red and grazed beneath the deep purple shadow there. "What's that?" he asked, genuinely curious, and she didn't miss the note of concern lacing his tone.

But she frowned, unsure what he meant. "What's what?" But she followed his gaze to her arm and realised. "Oh. That."

"Yeah, _that_." Dean took a hold of her elbow and twisted her arm to get a better look. "Whoa. That's a mess, Ali." He didn't sound impressed, he sounded worried. "What the hell happened?"

Alison shrugged, almost sheepishly. "I fell."

He raised an eyebrow at her, sceptical. "You fell?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded. "Down the stairs. Tripped on my laces."

Dean continued to frown at her. "Jesus. Must've hurt." he commented. She spoke so casually about it, as though there was nothing at all wrong, and he wanted to believe her, but he wasn't sure that he did. With Alison, a broken arm, a bleeding cut, that was nothing to her, she didn't shed a tear, but the little things, like a grazed knee or a paper cut, that was when she'd complain as though she were dying. It was as though she had something to hide, like she was covering up what had really happened to her.

"I'm fine, Dean." she said simply. "Just clumsy. You know me."

"That's pretty bad for falling down the stairs, Ali." he told her bluntly. "Are you sure that's all it was?"

"Yes," She laughed. "I promise, that's all it was. Stop worrying."

"Hey, I've got fifteen months of worrying to catch up on, cut me some slack." he quipped, nudging her in the arm as they began to walk.

"So," Alison glanced up at him, unsure she even wanted to ask. The thought scared her, but she wanted to understand. "How was it?"

Dean thought over her question for a long moment, contemplating his answer. "Different." he commented. "Not what I expected."

"Huh." She nodded. "Was it hard? I mean, obviously it had to be hard, but...I don't know...I worry about you. You know...you see this stuff on the news and..."

"Hey." Dean shook his head slowly, smiling at her. "It's nothing I couldn't handle, if that's what you mean." But he could tell, she didn't look convinced. "I'm alright over there, Ali, really. You don't have to worry. I'm never not gonna come home, okay? I promised."

Alison nodded. "So, how long are you home?" she asked, almost hesitant.

"Long enough." Dean assured. "You don't need to worry about it."

She sighed. "Dean—"

"Ali." he stopped her. "Really, let's just enjoy it while I am home." He placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. "C'mon, we'll grab some lunch."

Alison caved, and she nodded in agreement. He was right, he was home, they had to make the most of it. In that moment, it was all that mattered to either of them.

Alison pretended like she wasn't worried about him. She acted as though there was nothing at all weighing on her mind. But, honestly, she was scared. She was afraid of the look she had seen in his face when he had thought she wasn't paying attention. To anyone else it was unnoticeable, but she knew his every expression. Dean looked weary, he looked exhausted, not just physically. Behind the bright smile and the laughter, he looked damaged, like she had never seen him look before. He looked haunted by something, she just didn't know what. She didn't like to imagine the things he had seen while he had been away, she didn't want to. But something had stuck with him. _Something_ had happened. There was so much pain that clearly weighed down on his shoulders, so much life visibly drained out of him. He just didn't look himself. It was only for a split second, but she had seen it. She had picked up on the hurt behind his eyes, lurking in the green depths. And she was terrified of what it was.

Dean pretended like he wasn't worried about his sister. He acted as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about her, but there was. Something was going on with her. He didn't believe for a second that she had tripped on her laces and fallen down the stairs, because that just wasn't something she would do. He wanted to know what had suddenly made her want to up and leave to go to college when she had never once in her life expressed any interest in it before. He wanted to know what was really going on in her head, and why she seemed so reluctant to tell him the truth.

Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was everything, but they both acted as though there was absolutely nothing wrong.

In that moment, Dean was home, and that was all that mattered.


	3. Someone's Keeping Secrets

_Thank you so much for reading the last chapter, and to those of you who reviewed, your support means the world:-))_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Three: Someone's Keeping Secrets**

 _Lawrence, Kansas — 01:56AM._

There was something incredible about coming home after being away for so long. To discover yourself again, to find that everything just seemed to fall right back into place, as though nothing had ever changed in the first place. That was the thought that crossed Dean Winchester's mind as he sat on the couch with his sister. It was his first night home in what felt like a lifetime. Coming home had always seemed like some distant dream to him, and yet, there he was. A part of it all still felt so surreal to him.

Dean was home. In everything that had happened to him over the past fifteen months, in all the craziness and through all the changes, in all the chaos and through all the violence, in all the terror and through all the adrenaline and excitement, he was safe, he was back in the one place that everything just seemed so certain. It was the one place that seemed the light in the dark. There was something comforting in knowing, however much things had changed in his life, and no matter what he had been through while he had been away, there was still something waiting for him when he finally returned.

In that moment, it felt like nothing had changed at all. It felt as though not a day had passed by since he had last been there. He sat on the couch with his sister, who had long since drifted into sleep watching some bad horror movie on the TV before them. Her head was rested gently against his shoulder, and his arm was wrapped around her. Their parents had long since retired to bed, and, in their usual tradition, the two of them had spent an hour picking out a horror movie to watch, and eaten enough sweets to make even someone with the sweetest tooth sick. They were the moments when he truly felt home.

As the credits rolled on the movie, Dean hesitantly nudged his sister. "Hey," he said softly, shaking her slightly. "Don't you have work in the morning?"

Alison stirred and blinked open her eyes. For a moment she looked confused, until she realised where she was, and her eyes narrowed at the clock on the wall. She pulled her face a little, as if debating it with herself, and shrugged. "I think I've got another one in me." she said, but he didn't miss how her words were slurred slightly with sleep.

Dean chuckled to himself. "I'm still gonna be here in the morning, Ali." he told her, his voice quiet, so not to wake their parents. "Go to bed."

He could see her thinking over the idea, and she reluctantly nodded her head. "Yeah," she agreed. "You're right."

"Always am." Dean smirked at her. And she somehow found the energy to punch him lightly in the arm.

"G'night, Dean." she said softly, smiling as she pushed herself up off the couch.

He nodded. "Night, sis."

Dean watched her go and smiled to himself as he relaxed back into the couch. He sighed lightly, and he couldn't think of anywhere he would rather be than right there. The past fifteen months, Dean had grown accustomed to living somewhere else. The people there, sometimes they had referred to that place as home, and, in a way, it had been. It had been where they lived, where they worked, where they ate, where they slept. But it had never really been _home_. Not to him. His home was with his family.

Home was where he came home everyday to the bright white smile his mother always seemed to wear, where he could let her worry about things he had never done or even thought about doing, where he had the security of knowing that she was always going to love him, no matter what. Home was where he could spent time with his father, where he could have a beer with him and talk man to man, where he could let him teach him how to fix a car he already knew inside out. Home was where he could hang out with his kid brother, where he could listen to him talk about his college work for an hour and still have no clue what he was studying, where he could give him advice on girls and hangovers and everything between. Home was where he could annoy the hell out of his kid sister, where he could spent all night simply watching bad movies and eating junk food with her, where he could fight off boys for her and take the bruised arm that came with it, where he had a best friend for life.

Home was where he was right there. And there was no place he would rather be.

* * *

 _07:31AM._

Dean headed down the stairs the next morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He tried to shake the dream he'd woken from out of his mind, pushing it to the back of his head where he prayed he wouldn't have to think about it again, and he smiled as he headed into the kitchen. His mother was standing at the stove, her eyes fixed to the frying pan before her, even being in there alone, he noticed there was a bright smile on her face as she hummed along to the radio playing softly behind her.

Mary looked up as he headed further into the room. "Morning, honey." she smiled brightly at him. "Sit down, I'm making breakfast."

Dean returned her smile as he moved pour himself a coffee. "Where's Alison?" he asked, taking a drink, noting there only seemed to be the two of them in the house. "And dad."

"Oh, your dad's just taking Alison to work." she told him, gesturing for him to take a seat at the table. "He won't be long."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Work on a Saturday morning." he pondered, shaking his head to himself.

"Poor thing looked exhausted this morning." she said, sitting down at the table with him. "What time were you two up until last night?"

"Uh, it was getting late." He shrugged. "Sorry, that's my bad."

Mary shook her head at him, chucking to herself. "I'm glad you're getting to spend some time together again." she smiled. "She's always said watching horror movies and eating her own body weight in candy wasn't as fun without you."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I've missed it."

Mary frowned a little. There was something behind the laughter that she could pick up on, and it made her a little uneasy. "Are you alright?" she pressed gently. "Did you sleep okay?"

Dean looked up at her and nodded, pushing up a smile. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Mom." he said, a little brighter. "Just tired. Little jet-lagged, I think."

"Hm." Mary nodded, but she didn't seem completely convinced. "I'll get you some breakfast."

It was as she pushed herself up from her seat that the back door opened behind them, and Dean turned to see his Dad enter the kitchen. Mary smiled at him as she made her way back to the stove, taking some plates from the cupboard before her. "Smells great, honey." John said to her, and Dean smiled a little as he watched his dad place a kiss to her cheek before he moved to sit down at the table.

"How was your first night home?" John asked him.

"Uh, it was good." Dean nodded. "Glad to be back."

John nodded at him, and he smiled. "Glad to have you home, son." he said, his voice sincere.

"Thanks, Dad."

"So, I was thinking, having you home, how about we all do something next weekend?" he suggested. "Sam's back by then. Be nice to spend some time together as a family again."

"Uh, next weekend isn't going to work." Mary said, placing a plate down in front of each of them. "Alison's going to California next weekend, you know that."

John seemed to think on her words for a long moment, frowning. "Are you sure you told me?"

Mary rolled her eyes as she sat down at the table with them, a smile playing on her face. "You never listen, John Winchester."

"How come she's going to Cali?" Dean asked, glancing between them. "What's in Cali?"

"There's an open weekend for college next week. She's going with her friends." Mary told him. "She thinks she's interested."

"Huh." Dean nodded slowly. He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea of his sister wanting to go to college. "You said she goes to a lot of them, right?"

John scoffed. "All the time." he said. "Dead set on college with no idea where she wants to go."

Dean frowned. Something about it all seemed strange. But then, he had been gone for fifteen months, a lot had changed since then. He just wondered why she hadn't told him. Normally, something like that, she would have told him straight away. It was as though she hadn't wanted him to know. He planned to ask her about it.

"What time is she working until?" he asked, as though it was completely unrelated to the subject.

"Eight tonight." Mary said. "She's on a twelve hour shift today."

"Have you called your brother since you've come home?" John asked, looking up at him. "Does he know you're back?"

"Uh, no, actually." Dean shook his head. "I didn't get the chance yesterday. When does he come back?"

"Tomorrow, I think." Mary told him. "Might be a nice surprise for him if you don't say anything." she said lightly, a smile tugging at her lips as she glanced over at John. "Or, might give him a heart attack, like it almost gave your father."

Dean laughed. "I think I'll leave it until he comes home." he smirked. "I'm sure I'll find a way of letting him know I'm back."

"Hey," John warned. "You two start another one of those prank wars, keep it outside the house this time." Dean opened his mouth to argue his case, but stopped at the sound of the phone ringing. He watched as his mother stood from the table and left the room to answer it. "Tell me, how are you doing, Dean? Really?" he asked, his voice suddenly more serious. "I know your mom's worried about you. I've served, Dean, I know some of the things you can see aren't easy."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I'm alright. Ready for a break, you know?"

John nodded. "Make sure you're taking care of yourself." he told him. "You know where I am if you need anything. I know being a Marine is different to being in the Army, but I've seen some sights myself in my time. I know how it feels."

"Yeah. Thanks, Dad." He cleared his throat and pulled a hand down his face. "I'm gonna take a shower."

* * *

 _10:49AM._

Dean stepped out of the diner, coffee in his hand, and crossed the parking lot, squinting through the bright sunlight above him. Truthfully, he was simply trying to keep himself busy. Sitting at home and staring at the walls had been driving him insane. His parents had gone out, his brother was away and his sister was working, suddenly he felt as though he had nothing to do. He had contemplated calling some of his friends, seeing if they wanted to hang out, but, truthfully, he really wasn't in the mood, for anyone. And so he headed back to his car, not even sure where he was planning on going.

He was almost there, never thinking too much into anything that was going on around him, until he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, as though there was somebody following him. He turned slowly and glanced back over his shoulder to see one of the girls who had been sitting in the diner walking towards him. "Hey." With a quick glance he realised that there was no one else around, she had to be talking to him. "I'm, uh, sorry if this sounds weird but...you're Alison's brother, right?"

Dean frowned a little. "Uh, yeah." He nodded. "Dean."

The girl nodded at him. "Yeah, I knew I recognised you. She has that photo of the two of you in her room. I don't know if you remember me, I'm Chloe, a friend of hers." Dean narrowed his eyes, she looked familiar, he'd admit that, but his sister had a lot of friends, he never took too much notice. The girl continued to stare at him, and he raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask what she wanted. "Sorry, I just, kinda feel like I know you, you know? She talks about you all the time. She really missed you. I didn't actually know that you were home."

Dean frowned, it was as though she wanted to tell him something but she just couldn't get it out. "Something wrong?"

Chloe sighed, defeated, and looked away from him for a moment. She looked back look over her shoulder, as if to ensure that no one was watching, and nodded. "Yeah...well...no...I don't know." She sighed deeply. "I think there's something going on with her. I mean, I didn't wanna tell your mom and dad about it, because I'm not sure, but—"

"What makes you think there's something going on with her?" Dean asked, a little too defensive.

"It's just, she kinda disappears a lot lately, you know? Like, she'll go away for three or four days at a time, and I'm pretty sure she's been telling your parents that she's going to college weekends, but..." She trailed off and shrugged.

"What?" Dean pressed. "You don't believe her?"

Chloe shook her head slowly. "I've asked her, she always says that it's nothing, that I don't need to know, but I'm worried about her. We've been friends for a long time, she never keeps anything from me. I think there's more to it this time. She comes back with bruises or cuts or whatever, and, she's just...different. From the minute she says she leaving until she comes home, she's just in another world. And, wherever she goes, it's impossible to get a hold of her until she's home again. She never answers her phone. It's like she's always looking over her shoulder lately, I don't know what's going on. Like I said, I'm sure it's nothing, but, I just thought I should tell you."

Dean thought over her words for a long moment. He had been considering the idea something was off about her, that she was hiding something. With the sudden unexplained desire to see every college in the country, the bruise on her arm he was so sure she was lying about, maybe the girl in front of him was onto something. "Do you have any idea where she's going?"

Chloe shook her head. "No, but, I think she's planning on going somewhere this weekend. We're all going to California—"

"I thought Ali was going with you?" he pushed.

"No." Chloe shook her head again. "Look, I won't lie, none of us really want to go to any of these places, we just go for fun, you know? There's usually a party or something going on. But, Alison hasn't been with us once. I don't know where she's going but, it's definitely not to California with us." She sighed, and he could already tell she was regretting even speaking to him in the first place. "Look, I'm sorry to dump all of this on you, I know she's your sister, and I know you only just got home, but, if something _is_ going on, if something went wrong and I hadn't told someone—"

"No, no, I get you." Dean nodded. "Thank you."

Chloe smiled a little. "Oh, and, uh, would you mind not telling her this came from me?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it." Dean smiled at her. "I'll take care of it. "

"Thanks, Dean." She smiled at him one last time before she turned to walk away, and his face completely fell as she did.

Something was going on with Alison. He was more than sure of it now.

* * *

 _11:12AM._

The tyres screeched to a halt as Dean pulled up the car outside of the nursing home where Alison worked. He was determined, now more than ever, to have it out with her. He sure as hell wasn't waiting nine hours for her to finish her shift, he wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He had never known Alison to lie about something like that before, especially to their mother. It just wasn't like her. He couldn't even begin to imagine what could be so bad that she had to keep sneaking off without telling anyone, not even her friends, where she was going. Maybe if _someone_ knew he wouldn't be as concerned. But for her not to be able to tell their parents, it had to be bad. He understood, teenage girls had their own world, they had secrets, but if there was a line where she couldn't even trust her own family or friends to know. It couldn't be anything good.

Dean pressed the doorbell to the home impatiently, and he watched through the glass as a woman left the office beside the door. She looked to be around forty, and he was assuming, since she wasn't wearing the pale blue scrubs that his sister wore to work, she was the manager. She looked him up and down slowly as she opened the door, and smiled. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, uh, I'm looking for Alison." he said simply, what more could he really say? He didn't want to bother her at work, but he needed to find out what was going on. He was worried about her.

The woman frowned. "Alison?"

Dean gave an impatient sigh. "Winchester." he clarified.

She narrowed her eyes a little. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I'm her brother." He took a breath, lowering his voice a little. "Look, please, this is important. I need to speak to her."

The woman nodded, and she stepped aside to let him enter. "She's actually a little busy right now, but, uh, if you head through that door," She gestured to the corridor to their right. "There's a lounge, she should find you. I'll pass on that you're here."

Dean nodded. "Thank you."

The woman said nothing more to him as she turned and disappeared back into her office, closing the door behind herself. Dean shook his head and headed off in the direction she had sent him. He had never been in a place like that, he didn't know what to expect. Honestly, no matter how much his sister had told him about her job, he just couldn't imagine it. He wandered into the room she had sent him to and glanced around. There were residents sitting in almost all of the chairs, most of them sleeping soundly where they were. The TV was on, but none of them seemed to be watching it.

He looked up as a young girl, looking only a little older than his sister, entered, and she smiled at him. There was an elderly lady walking with her, holding her hand for support. "Hey, are you new?" she asked.

Dean frowned, a little confused. "Sorry?"

"Are you...working here?" she pressed.

"Oh, no, no, no." He shook his head. "I'm, uh, looking for Alison. They told me to wait in here for her."

The elderly lady standing with her looked him up and down slowly, and a smile appeared on her face. "You look just like my husband." she said sweetly.

"Uh," Dean looked a little confused for a moment, but smiled. "Really?"

The lady chuckled and stepped closer. "You're a little more handsome." she whispered. "Can I tell you a secret?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "I guess?"

"My husband has been dead for fifteen years," She stepped even closer and lowered her voice. "I haven't remarried." she winked. "Yet."

"Okay, alright," The girl standing with her laughed. "Let's get you sat down, Margaret." she chuckled.

Dean watched as the girl guided the lady into a chair, and headed back over to him. "Sorry about that, old girl will flirt with anyone." She laughed. "She'd eat you alive. You said you were looking for Alison? She shouldn't be long, she's just finishing up with another resident. The girl never stops." She smiled. "How do you know Ali?"

"I'm her brother."

The girl's face seemed to change at that statement, as though a sense of realisation had washed over her. "You're Dean?" He nodded. "Oh my god, she didn't say you were coming home."

"Yeah," Dean huffed a laugh. "She, uh, didn't actually know until yesterday."

"Wow." She smiled. "Sorry, I'm Jess. I've heard a lot about you. I better get back to work, but it was nice meeting you, Dean."

"Yeah," He nodded. "You, too."

Dean watched her go and sighed, he wasn't even sure his sister knew that he was there. He needed to speak to her, now. He was ready to go and find her himself, but he heard the sound of laughter coming from down the hallway, and he instantly recognised it as his sister's.

Dean watched as his sister emerged from the corridor and into the large lounge where he stood, her arm linked with an elderly man, peeling the plastic gloves from her hands she entered. There was a bright smile on her face, and Dean honestly couldn't imagine anybody being as happy at work as she looked right there. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing, she hadn't even realised that he was standing there. For a moment he stood and watched what she did, intrigued.

Alison grinned as the man walking with her began singing some old song, one he had only heard in old movies, and she began to sing along with him. The man laughed, singing with her as she walked with him to one of the few empty seats in the lounge. He watched as the man hugged her, and she hugged him back. He couldn't understand how such a caring girl could be lying as much as she was. He looked on as she gently guided the man to sit in the chair, and she crouched down before him, still holding his hand, as she took the time to speak with him. Watching her there, she didn't seem the type of girl to be keeping secrets, he couldn't even begin to understand why she was.

Dean stepped forwards as she stood again and cleared his throat. "Alison."

Alison frowned, and she turned quickly to face him. "Dean. What the hell are you doing here?" She looked around the room, as if expecting someone to be with him. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

"C'mere." He nodded at her. "We need to talk."

Alison crossed the room towards him, she didn't like to think why he would be there. "Dean, what—"

But Dean wasn't giving her the chance to say anything more. "I know you've been lying to mom and dad."

Her eyebrows rose at the comment. "What?"

"Don't bother lying to me, Ali." he said, he sounded tired, disappointed. "All these college weekends, I know you've been lying about them, Alison. Where the hell are you sneaking off to? Huh?"

Alison narrowed her eyes, as though curious. "What makes you think that I'm lying?"

"Because I know you, Ali. Better than you think I do. I know you, and I know when you're lying to me." He shook his head at her. "You might have mom and dad fooled with all of this, but not me. So, what's going on?"

Alison sighed. "Look, I really don't know what you're talking about, Dean, but I gotta get back to work."

She went to turn and walk away, but Dean grabbed her around the arm before she could. "Ali—" But he stopped whatever he was about to say at the sound of a loud buzzing going off around them, it sounded like an alarm. "What's that?"

"Emergency buzzer." she said. "Dean, I really can't have this conversation right now, okay? I'll see you at home."

Dean was going to protest, but the girl he had been speaking to before ran into the lounge, looking a little out of breath. "Alison, I'm sorry, we need you." she urged. "Room Eleven."

"Dean," She threw him an apologetic look. "I really gotta go."

Dean nodded, reluctant, but he understood. "This isn't over."

Alison knew that, he knew she did, and so she didn't say anything as she turned and ran off in the direction the other girl had gone. He watched after her for a moment, shaking his head. He knew now, he had seen it in her face just then, she was definitely lying. Something was going on with her, and he intended to find out what.


	4. Avoiding The Problem

_Thank you so much for reading the last chapter, and special thanks to those of you who reviewed! Your support keeps me writing!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Four: Avoiding The Problem**

 _Lawrence, Kansas — Home — 01:19PM._

Sam heaved a sigh as he headed up the path to his home. It had been a long trip back, and he was more than ready to just collapse onto his bed. A smile came to his face as he opened the door, he had only been away at college for the weekend, but he already realised, there really was no place like home. He closed the front door behind himself and dropped his bag carelessly to the floor beside him. He glanced into the living room as he passed, and he frowned when he saw that there was nobody there. It was unusual for the house to be so quiet. He wasn't even sure that anybody was home. Yet, if that was the case, why had the door been unlocked?

"Hello?" he called as he headed towards the kitchen, but he received no response. "Anyone home?"

"Well, well, well," A deep voice sounded from behind him, and it stopped Sam dead in his tracks. "College boy returns."

Sam turned around so fast that he almost lost his balance. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and his mouth was hanging open. "Dean." He opened and closed his mouth a few times, searching for the words that his brain just couldn't seem to string together, as though it couldn't process the sight before him. He frowned, and Dean could see him trying to work out what was happening. "What are you doing here? I mean, oh my god. Why didn't you say you were coming home?"

Dean chuckled to himself, offering a half-hearted shrug. "Imagine the surprise on your face." He smiled at him, really smiled, and stepped forwards. "C'mere, little brother." He rested his hands to Sam's shoulders for a moment before he pulled him into a tight hug.

It took a moment for the initial shock to wear off, for Sam to realise what was actually happening, but he brought his arms up to hug his brother back, just as tightly. It felt like a lifetime since he had seen him, since the last time they had stood there and said their goodbyes to each other. Back when Dean had told him he would be home before he knew it, he had been wrong, it seemed another world ago. Dean's grip on him was strong, crushing, and Sam matched it easily. It reminded Sam of when they were kids, when they were small enough that Sam would have to stand on his tip-toes to hug his brother, when he would get upset or scared and he would cling to Dean like his life depended upon it. Having him there again, after so long, it didn't seem real. They stood there for a long moment, neither saying a word, simply taking in each other's company.

Sam and Dean had been close from the beginning, as brothers they had always had each other's backs, through anything. They would side with each other, no matter what. The same as they would with their sister. The three of them had always been an unbeatable team. Besides being siblings, the three of them were the best of friends, and nothing could come between them. Sam had always known that. He had always known that Dean going away wouldn't change anything between them, and there, in that moment, he knew that he had been right.

Sam had missed his brother like hell while he had been gone. Despite the phone calls, something about it just hadn't been the same. Dean's jokes didn't have the same impact over the phone, the sarcastic comments he gave just weren't the same when he couldn't _see_ his brother rolling his eyes at him. The advice he offered him about college just wasn't the same when he wasn't really there to have a beer with him. But now, there he was, and it was as though everything had just fallen right back into place.

Dean was the first of them to pull back, but his hands remained firmly on his younger brother's shoulders, and he realised just how much he seemed to be looking up at him. "Did you get taller while I was away?" he asked, frowning a little. "You gotta stop with the growing man," he quipped. "You know I ain't gonna catch up with you now."

Sam laughed, really laughed, and nodded. "Man, it's good to see you."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and the grin didn't falter from his face. "You, too, Sammy."

And, just that once, Sam didn't say a word about his brother calling him Sammy. At that point, he didn't care. It felt like home again.

"Come on," Dean pressed. "Let's have a beer."

Sam nodded and followed his brother towards the kitchen. He took a seat at the counter and watched as he pulled a couple of bottles from the refrigerator. Everything he did just seemed so normal, as though he had never been away in the first place. It was all just routine, like nothing had changed, as though they had done the same thing just yesterday.

"How long have you been back?" he asked, curious.

Dean handed him one of the beers and took a seat on the chair beside his. "Couple days."

Sam raised an eyebrow. There was only one thought on his mind at that point. "Has Alison seen you?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "Yeah, she's seen me."

It was at that thought he seemed to realise that she wasn't there. Normally, when Dean was home, there wasn't one of them without the other. They did everything together. Dean and Alison were, and always had been, each other's best friend. "Where is Alison? She working?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean cleared his throat, his attention fixed solely on the bottle in his hands, that was a conversation he didn't really want to get into. He was already pissed at himself over what had happened between them that morning, he sure as hell didn't want to have to explain to his brother why he had barged into her work accusing her of what he had. "She's working."

Sam nodded, nonchalant, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. To him, there wasn't. "You know she had this whole welcome home party planned for you, right?" he said, a smirk on his face. "Beer pong and everything. Dad was sure he was going to get mom to play."

"Yeah, so I heard." Dean chuckled. "Still regretting not calling ahead for that one."

Sam snickered to himself at the thought. He looked up at him carefully, as though studying him. "So, what was it like over there?" he asked, his voice dramatically lower than it had been. He was suddenly so serious in his words. "I mean, I know you always said it was fine on the phone, but, really? What was it like?"

Dean shrugged. "It's alright." he muttered. "Look, let's not talk about that. How's college looking, huh? I mean, full ride to Stanford? You're such a nerd, man."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, it's looking good so far. Ask me again in a couple weeks when I start." he joked.

But Dean could see the happiness in his face at the thought. "I'm proud of you, Sammy." he said, sincere. "Really."

"Thanks, Dean."

Dean smiled and took a drink of his beer and looked over his brother carefully. Despite how happy he was to see his little brother again, there was still something plaguing his mind. If there was anyone he could ask, it was him. He couldn't ask his parents, and he sure as hell wasn't going to try asking his sister again. Sam was his best shot at getting some real answers. He cleared his throat, slightly hesitant on how to approach the situation, and focused on the beer bottle in his left hand. "So," he began, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye how Sam immediately turned his attention to him. "I wanted to ask you something."

Sam raised his eyebrows. His brother suddenly looked so uncomfortable. "What's up?"

"How's Alison doing?" he asked, his voice serious, giving away that he was no longer joking around. "Really?"

The question seemed to take Sam by surprise. He clearly hadn't been expecting it. But he could see the worry in his brother's face, it was something about him that clearly hadn't changed in his absence. "What makes you ask that?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know." he admitted. "Something about her just seems so...different. I mean, I know I've been gone a while, and I know she's grown up, but...I don't know...even Mom seems worried about her. What's with her suddenly wanting to go to college? Doesn't that strike you as weird?"

"For Ali?" Sam scoffed. "Course it did. But," He shrugged. "If it's what she wants, I hope she gets there. I think it'd be good for her."

"Hm." Dean took another drink of his beer, unsure as to whether he really wanted to ask his next question. It was going to be a touchy subject, and if Sam really was as in the dark with it all as he appeared, there was a chance it wouldn't go down well. "What about that bruise on her arm?" he pressed. "How did she get that?"

"What, she didn't tell you?" Sam huffed a laugh, as though he found the situation amusing. "She fell down the stairs."

Dean frowned at that, he had to wonder why everyone seemed to be taking that as such a believable explanation. "Were you with her? When she fell?"

Sam shook his head. "No, she was home alone. She'd just come back from Minnesota, I think. She was up at a college weekend there."

"Huh." Dean thought on that for a moment, and he glanced over his shoulders towards the stairs. They were carpeted, there was nothing hard around for her to bang her arm like that. It didn't add up. "Pretty nasty bruise for falling down the stairs, don't you think?"

Sam placed his beer down and looked up at him, eyes narrowed the slightest bit in suspicion. "What are you saying?" he pushed. "You think she's lying or something?"

Dean shrugged, nonchalant. "You tell me."

Sam regarded his brother for a long moment. He wasn't sure what he was trying to say, and he wasn't all that sure he really wanted to know what was going on in Dean's head. "I think you haven't seen her for fifteen months." he stated simply. "And I think you're finding things to worry about that you don't need to worry about. You know what Alison's like, she's always been clumsy."

"Yeah, tripping over chairs, dropping plates, forgetting to pay for parking, not falling face first down flights of stairs." he countered, a little more forcefully than he had intended. "That isn't like her, Sam, and you know it."

"Hey, these things happen, Dean." he said calmly. "I've been to those college weekends myself, knowing what goes on there, and knowing Ali, she was probably hungover."

Dean sighed, defeated. His brother didn't know anything. He was starting to think that he was the only one who had noticed how strange her behaviour seemed. Maybe it was because he had been away for so long, he noticed the things that had changed. Or maybe it was the fact that he knew his sister better than anyone else in the world knew her. He wasn't sure. But he wasn't backing down. He was determined to find out what was going on with her, and where she was really sneaking off to behind her family's backs.

But, he wasn't about to drag their brother into it. And so he caved. "Yeah," he feigned agreement. "Maybe you're right."

Sam nodded, and he looked a little relieved. "Alison's fine, Dean. Really." He smiled. "You don't need to worry about her."

Dean forced a smile, but he was anything but convinced.

* * *

 _08:32PM._

Dean glanced back over his shoulder as the front door opened. He heard the sound of someone entering the house and dropping their bag down to the floor. He raised his eyebrows at his sister as she entered the living room, as though expecting her to say something. Her eyes found his for a brief moment, but she quickly looked away. Right there, he could tell, she had no intention of continuing their conversation from that morning.

"Hey, honey." Mary smiled up at her, not seeming to notice. "How was work?"

"Uh, it was alright." Alison answered, her voice quiet, as she pulled of her jacket, and Dean noticed how she seemed to look anywhere but him.

"Is that blood?" Sam asked, noting the stain on the front of her pale blue scrubs.

Alison glanced down, it was as though she had forgotten that it was even there. "Oh, uh, yeah." she muttered. "One of our residents had a fall this morning, cut their head open. They're alright." She shot a pointed look at Dean, and he just knew that was what she had gone running off to while he had been there. This time it was him who looked away, because he did regret what he had done. He knew it hadn't been fair to show up at her work the way he had. He had acted on nothing but impulse, thinking that something was wrong. He knew he should have waited until she had gotten home. "I'm gonna take a shower."

Mary frowned a little, it wasn't like her. Usually, she would come home from work with a smile on her face, more than willing to tell them about her day. Something seemed off. But she could tell, she didn't want to talk. It was as though she simply didn't want to be in the room, like she wanted to be alone, and so she nodded. "Okay." she said, putting her behaviour down to her simply having a bad day. "When are you working again?"

Alison looked down. "Tomorrow, actually."

"Tomorrow?" Mary frowned, and Dean raised an eyebrow at her, smirk on his face. "I thought you were off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I was." she muttered. "I picked up a shift for someone, they needed it off."

"Alison," Mary sighed. "Your brother only just came home, and now that Sam's home, too, I thought you'd want to spend some time with them."

"I do." But Dean could see now, she really was avoiding looking at him.

"Anyone would think you were trying to avoid me." Dean commented, and there was a knowing look on his face that only she saw.

Alison forced a laugh, more for the sake of their mother than anything else, because, he could tell, she was anything but amused with him at that point. Showing up at her work the way he had done, he'd quickly realised, probably wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but, at that point, he didn't really care. He was more concerned with what his sister was so desperate to keep to herself, what she was working so hard to hide from them all. It wasn't like her, it was suspicious, and he wanted some answers.

"Funny, Dean." she muttered, throwing a glare this way. "I'll be upstairs."

Sam and Dean shared a look, and there was something about Dean's face that Sam just knew meant he was concerned. He just didn't understand why. What was there to be concerned about? Alison hadn't changed, not that he could see, she was exactly the same person she had been the day that Dean had gone away. So what was it that he was so wrapped up in? Why was he so adamant that something was going on with her? Unless, it was something that he just couldn't see himself. He tried and tried to think of what it could be, but nothing came to mind.

"Looks like it's just the four of us tomorrow." Mary commented, a little disappointment in her words.

Sam thought for a moment, maybe he _was_ onto something. It was strange for her to pick up an extra shift right as Dean had come home. Normally the two of them were pretty much joined at the hip, they did everything together. He couldn't imagine why, when her brother had only been home a day after fifteen months, she would want to be at work. He'd noticed then how she seemed to avoid looking at her eldest brother with everything she had in her, how she seemed so desperate to get out of the same room as him, how there had seemed to be some kind of tension between them.

It was at that thought he knew he had to find out for himself. "Hey, I'll, uh, be right back." he muttered, offering his mom and brother a smile before he headed out of the room.

* * *

Alison sighed as she wiped the last of the make up from her face, looking at herself in the mirror. She shook her head slowly and traced her fingertips over the fading bruise around her left eye. It wasn't dark, and no one had noticed it. She tossed the wipe to the trash and rested her head against her palms for a moment. She didn't know what to do. A part of her didn't even dare leave the room, because she just knew that Dean was waiting for her. He wouldn't quit, not until he was satisfied, and she didn't have any answers or explanation to offer him. She couldn't risk him saying something in front of their mom or dad, or Sam.

"Dean's worried about you." A voice said from behind her, and she jumped at the sound. She lifted her head and looked through the mirror, seeing the reflection of Sam standing in the doorway of her bedroom. He leaned casually against the frame, eyebrows raised. She turned in her seat to face him, and he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind himself, his eyes fixed on the bruise marking her arm. "He doesn't believe you fell down the stairs."

Alison shrugged, nonchalant. "Well, you know what Dean's like," she said lightly. "Worries about anything."

Sam regarded her for a moment, and she noticed how he narrowed his eyes. "What's that?" he pressed. "Have you got a black eye?"

"What?" Alison frowned, as though confused, and shook her head. She looked over her shoulder to the mirror behind her and chuckled. "It's just make up, Sam. You kinda caught me halfway through taking it off."

"Oh." He nodded slowly, seeming to believe her. "About Dean," he continued. "He's got a point, you know. It's a pretty big bruise for falling down those stairs, Ali." She raised her eyebrows at him, saying nothing, and Sam sighed. He moved to sit on the end of her bed, facing her. "Look, I'm not trying to start anything, just, if something _had_ happened to you, I'm not saying it has, but on the chance, you would tell us, right?"

"Yeah," She nodded, but he didn't miss how she refused to look him in the face as she spoke. "Course I would."

Sam didn't look at all convinced, but he gave a slow nod, as if to say he'd take it. "Alright," He smiled at her. "As long as you're okay." He wasn't as persistent as his brother. If Alison said nothing had happened, he wouldn't fight an explanation from her. He would leave her to admit it in her own time. And, right there, she was more than grateful to know he wasn't going to stand there and demand a better answer.

"I'm fine, Sam, really." She smiled at him. "Listen, I'm gonna go to bed. Long shift, you know?"

Sam nodded again. "Okay." He stood from the bed and headed towards the door, pausing before he opened it. "Night, Ali."

Alison gave a half-hearted wave as he left. "Night, Sammy." she said down as the door closed, shaking her head to herself.

How had it gotten to this? How had it gotten to lying to both of her brothers, right to their faces? How had it come to the point that she was literally hiding in her bedroom to avoid talking to her own family? It was something that she had never done before, and the lies seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper each day that went by.

Alison closed her eyes as she heard the door once again open behind her. She knew that it had to be Dean, because he was the only one of them who didn't bother to knock before he barged inside. It was a habit he had never broken out of, no matter how much she fought him on it. She didn't turn around, simply sat with her back to him, and sighed. She wasn't in the mood. Truthfully, she didn't have the energy. "What is it, Dean?"

The door closed again, forcefully enough to make her jump a little. "I told you we weren't finished, Alison." he said, his voice hard. He wasn't messing around this time. Almost hesitant, she stood from her seat and turned to look at him, leaning back against the dressing table, arms folded. "You know, you can pick up as many shifts as you want, you can't avoid talking to me forever."

Alison frowned, shaking her head slowly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." he countered. "I'm not an idiot, Ali. You think you work twelve hours everyday we're never gonna finish that conversation we started this morning? Well, you're wrong. You still have to come home at the end of the day."

"Oh," Alison nodded, laughing to herself. "You mean that conversation you started when you barged into my work and tried to start a fight with me? That conversation?"

Dean scoffed at her. "Don't turn this on me. What's going on?" he pushed, and it was then that he seemed to notice something else. "And what the hell has happened to your face?" He stepped closer, to the point there was barely any space between them, and he looked more pissed than ever. "Is that a black eye?"

Alison pushed past him, shaking her head. "It's just make up." she muttered. "I'm trying to get ready for bed, what do you want?"

Dean regarded her for a moment, looking torn between believing her and tossing her a face wipe to ask for proof. But he caved. That wasn't why he was there. One thing at a time. "What's the big secret, huh? I mean, what could be so bad that you can't tell me?"

"There _is_ no secret." she snapped. "I don't know why you seem to think I'm lying about where I'm going, but I'm not."

It was then that Dean realised, he truly didn't recognise the girl he was talking to anymore. "You're lying to me now." he stated, and he almost sounded hurt at the idea. Alison _never_ lied, about anything, and especially not to him. He had always been the one she turned to, when something was going on that she didn't want their parents to know, when she was in some kind of trouble, when she wanted to sneak out to a party, whether she wanted someone to back her up or just some advice, it was _always_ him. And he had always been the same with her. But now, things seemed so different. The way they were there, the fighting and the distrust, it wasn't like them, at all. They had never been that way with each other before. He sighed, almost disheartened, and shrugged at her. "I thought we were closer than this, Ali. What is it? What, are you seeing some guy you don't want us to know about, is that it? I know I give you a hard time, but if that's what this is about, you really don't need to hide it."

Alison huffed a dry laugh, as though she couldn't believe what she was listening to. "No, Dean, I'm not seeing anyone."

"So, what?" he pressed, impatient. "Alison, _please_ , just tell me." He paused, and she could see him seriously debating his next comment. "Don't make me ask Mom."

Her eyebrows rose at that. "What?"

"Look, kid, you're not really leaving me much of a choice here." He shrugged. "You're sneaking around somewhere, doing something that's clearly bad enough no one can know about it. Are you in some kind of trouble? Alison, if something is going on, you need to tell us."

Alison sighed, defeated, and threw up her arms. "I don't know what you want me to say. There really is nothing going on, I'm telling you the truth. Would you like me to make something up just to make you happy?" Dean said nothing, simply stared at her, as if expecting more. "Look, please, it's been a long day, I just wanna go to bed. I've gotta work in the morning."

Dean looked down for a moment, thinking over her words carefully. He didn't know what else he could say. He couldn't fight a confession out of her. Not there, not then, not with their parents in the house. He wasn't going to start yelling at her, because, despite what he said, he was in no way prepared to explain to their mother what she was doing. Not yet. "Okay," He gave in. "Fine. I can't make you tell me. But don't think that this is over. Because it isn't."

And, with that, Dean turned and left the room, closing the door sharply after himself.

Alison sighed and dropped back to sit on her bed, her head rested against her palms. She couldn't believe how out of control things were getting. It had all started off as a little white lie, no one was getting hurt, no one was asking questions, there was nothing to be suspicious about. But now, Dean was home, and Dean was the one person who always seemed to know when she was lying. She wasn't sure how he had worked it out, but he had. He knew. He could see right through her. And now she was lying to his face, that was a place she never thought she would be. He was more than convinced that something was going on with her, he knew that she was lying about where she was going, he had it in his head that she was doing something she shouldn't be doing. And, she knew, he wasn't going to rest until he knew _exactly_ what it was.

What was she supposed to do? Realistically, she was busted. And she knew it.

There was no getting away with anything behind Dean's back. He wouldn't stop until he found out.

And, when he did, she really was screwed.


	5. Lies And Goodbyes

_Thank you so much for taking the time to read the last chapter, and a special thank you to those of you who have reviewed! Your support means the world!:-)) Hope I'm not updating too soon but I couldn't wait!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Five: Lies And Goodbyes**

 _Lawrence, Kansas — Home — 08:35AM._

A week had passed by, and it had been as though Alison was avoiding her eldest brother like the plague. She had spent as little time around him possible, and it was starting to show. He was more than aware that their parents had noticed her sudden absence, and so had Sam. Whether they thought that she was avoiding all of them or specifically him, he wasn't sure, but they had seemed to realise that something was going on with her. Dean had tried to talk to her, on any chance he got, but she always seemed to find a way around it. She would pick up more and more shifts at work, and when she did eventually come home it was a case of her going for a shower and heading to bed, barely giving anyone any time to speak with her. It felt as though none of them had seen her the entire week. And even when she was around, she would ensure that she was always sitting in a room with someone else, just to be sure that Dean couldn't start up any kind of conversation like the one he had tried to initiate when he had showed up at her work. He was becoming beyond frustrated with her.

He glanced up from his coffee as she headed into the kitchen that morning, bag slung over her shoulder, and he noticed that she looked anywhere but him.

Mary looked up and offered her a bright smile. "Are you all set?" she asked, and Dean could see the pride in her face. He felt like laughing, because if only she knew where her daughter was really going. It could have been anywhere, and Alison seemed just content in letting her believe it was California. A part of him wanted to speak up right there, to call Sam down and out her in front of the whole family, but something wouldn't let him. He wouldn't do that to her, no matter how pissed he was.

"Yeah," She nodded and shifted her bag on her shoulder. "I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Good luck." Mary stood from the table and pulled her into a hug, kissing her cheek lightly. "Be careful, honey. Call us if you need anything, okay? I love you."

Alison smiled at her. "Love you, too, mom." she said, and, no matter how much she played it down and acted as though everything was fine, Dean could see the guilt in her face. Whatever was going on, it was clear that she hated lying to them. So, why was she? Unless she had no choice. "Bye, dad."

John nodded. "Bye, sweetheart. Have fun."

Somehow, she wasn't sure how, she chanced a look at her brother, and Dean narrowed his eyes at her, as if to say that she hadn't won this one. "Good luck, Ali." There was something behind his words, and it was like he was offering her some kind of a challenge. There was a smugness in his features that didn't fill her with confidence, it was like he knew something that she didn't, like he was planning something. "I'll see you soon, kid."

Alison studied him for a moment, a slight frown on her face, but nodded. "Yeah," she agreed. "See you soon."

Dean smirked as he watched her go, the door closed behind her and he knew he had her beaten this time. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out her cell phone. He placed it down on the table discreetly, so that neither of his parents noticed. "Oh, hey." he said, as though surprised. "She forgot her phone."

John looked up and chuckled. "Good thing you saw it," he commented. "She'd be lost without it."

He laughed. "Yeah, I bet. I'll go give it to her." he said. "I'm actually gonna head out myself, I'm gonna go meet a couple of the guys, haven't seen them since I came home, you know?"

Mary smiled. "Have fun, honey."

"Yeah," Dean smirked to himself. "I'm sure I will."

* * *

Alison tossed her bag into the trunk of the car and slammed it closed. She twirled the keys around her finger and smiled as she reached for the handle to the door, and, for a short moment, she was so sure that she had gotten away with it. After everything that had happened the past week, after the amount of suspicion from her brother, it had crossed her mind that she was going to be grounded by the time weekend came around, and yet, there she was.

But that was before she heard the front door of their house slam closed behind her. "Hey!" A deep voice called down the path, and she stopped, eyes closed, at the sound. Reluctantly, she turned to face Dean, and raised her eyebrows. She was all too prepared for him to start something, to finally get out what he had been trying to say to her all week, but she noticed, he didn't look annoyed. He looked completely calm. "You forgetting something?" he asked, holding up her cell phone in his hand.

Alison frowned, confused, automatically checking the back pocket of her jeans, because it wasn't like her to forget her phone. "Oh," She narrowed her eyes at him, but even he wouldn't go far enough to hide her phone, would he? She decided against the thoughts and gave a weak smile. "Right, thanks."

She reached out for it, but Dean held it up, slightly out of her reach. "Last chance, Ali," he pressed. "Where are you going?"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Can we not do this, _please_?"

"Alison—"

"Dean." she stopped him. "Why are you so obsessed with knowing where I'm going, huh? What's the big deal?"

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "Why are you so desperate to keep it all a secret?" he countered. "What could you _possibly_ have to hide? Alison, you gotta understand, from the minute you learned to talk, I've never been able to shut you up. You tell me _everything_ , in graphic detail, most of which I really don't need to know. Now, I know you think you're an adult now, and that's fair, I don't need to know everything, but this? This is a whole new level for you, kid. The lying to mom and dad, lying to your friends—"

"What makes you think I'm lying to my friends?" she pushed, almost accusing. Had he been talking to someone? Had he asked her friends where she was going?

"Ali," Dean sighed. "That isn't the point. This isn't like you. Please, I'm asking you, just tell me where you're going."

Alison regarded him for a long moment, thinking over his words. She thought about how it must look to him, and that wasn't good. She knew that. He was clearly nothing but worried about her, and she knew that putting him in the position she had hadn't been fair. She didn't want to lie to him, or any of them, but she couldn't tell the truth. Either way, she lost. "Dean," She sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry that I lied to you, and I know how this must look to you, because we both know I'm not going to college, right? But I can't make you understand this. And I don't have the time to stand here and explain it to you. I just...I need you to let me do this. I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing, and that I'll be back in a couple of days. I promise."

Dean stared at her, debating what she was saying. He wasn't sure if she was being genuine or if she was simply trying to get out of there. He couldn't imagine a situation that she couldn't make him understand. He didn't want to. "You don't have the time to explain it right now?" He nodded to himself. "Whatever it is, it's that important to you? Then, fine. Go. But I swear to god, Alison, this is _anything_ but over. Do you hear me? And if I find out that you're doing something stupid, I really will spill it to mom and dad. That's a promise." With a reluctant sigh, anything but satisfied, he handed her back her phone. "Call me if you need anything. And stay out of trouble."

Alison nodded. "Thank you."

Before he could get another word out, and before he had the chance to change his mind, she turned back to the car. He stood and watched as she climbed inside and started the engine. She didn't look back at him as she pulled out and headed off down the road, he had a feeling that she didn't dare face him again.

Dean stood there and watched after her, thinking. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of car keys, looking between them and the other car parked outside the house. He headed towards it and climbed in, sitting behind the wheel. He sat there for a long moment, his eyes staring out over the empty road ahead of him as he thought. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to follow his own sister? Had his trust in her really faltered that much? Maybe Alison was telling him the truth, maybe she wasn't doing anything dangerous. Perhaps it was all as innocent as she made out and he was simply thinking too much into it. But, if that was the case, he couldn't understand what the big secret was. He couldn't understand why she felt she had to lie about it, especially to him.

Alison knew, had she told him, as long as her life wasn't in danger, as long as what she was planning wasn't anything crazy, Dean would have been more than happy to keep her secret. He wasn't one to run to their parents and tell over her, she knew that, better than anyone. So why wouldn't she just admit it? Unless, she really did have something to hide. He thought back to what her friend had told him that day outside the diner, about how she seemed to fall off the face of the earth when she made these trips. He thought about what she had said about her coming back with cuts and bruises, watching over her shoulder. He had seen it from the moment he had returned, something had been off about her from the start. His sister had never been a liar, she never had anything to hide. So, why now? What had changed?

With that thought in mind, the idea that she could be in some kind of danger, Dean knew what he had to do, and it all suddenly made a lot more sense to him. If Alison wasn't prepared to tell him what was going on in her life, he was going to find out for himself. He started the car and put it into gear.

"You should know better than to underestimate me, little sister." he muttered as he pulled out and headed down the road he had watched his sister go, determined to catch up to her.

There was something going on, something bad, and he was about to find out what.

* * *

 _I know you all want to know what she_ _'s hiding!_ _Next chapter, EVERYTHING comes out;-)) Thank you all so much for reading! xo_


	6. Confession

_As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read and for your reviews!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Six: Confession**

 _Wilmington, Ohio — 07:11PM._

Dean followed Alison's car for hours, only becoming more and more curious by the second. From the short distance he kept behind her car, he could clearly hear the music baring through her open window. Any time she had stopped for gas, to pick up some food or a drink, there had been nothing but a smile on her face. She looked happy, like she didn't have a care in the world. A million different scenarios had crossed his mind as he drove, and he still couldn't even begin to think of where she was going. He honestly had no clue. All that he knew was that she was driving in the complete opposite direction of California. Dean had always thought he knew everything about his little sister. He knew her every facial expression and her every emotion. He knew when she was upset, even if there was a smile on her face, he could tell clearly when she was lying, at times it was as though he knew her better than she knew herself. He could read her like a book. Or so he had thought.

As he drove behind her, he tried to think what could have changed so dramatically in her life to make her the way she was now. When he had left, there was nothing that Alison wouldn't tell her family. She was like an open book. Sure, if something really bad happened, something that truly hurt her, she would close herself off, but someone, usually him, would always get it out of her in the end. She never fought too hard to keep anything a secret, not the way she was doing now. It just wasn't like her. Alison had never been a liar, not to this extent.

He and Alison had always been so close, they had been more like best friends than siblings. If something happened she would tell him, that was the way it had always been, so why was she so closed up all of a sudden? Why was she fighting with everything she had in her to stop him finding out what she was doing, and where she was going? He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he found when she actually did stop. Was she in some kind of trouble? Was she in danger? Why was she fighting him? The two of them never fought, ever, not each other. They fought other people, together. If Dean was in a fight with someone, Alison backed him up, whether he was right or not, the same as he did for her. But they didn't fight each other. Until now.

It was as she pulled into the parking lot of an old, run down motel, that he finally lifted his foot from the gas pedal, thanking god that she had finally stopped driving. It had been over ten hours since she had set off, and it crossed his mind, was this where she was headed all along, or was she simply stopping because she was tired? He looked around, he had no real clue where they were, he'd lost track a long time ago. The motel seemed remote, and if she hadn't stopped there he was sure he wouldn't have even noticed it. He was pretty sure that neither of them had ever been there before. But, it seemed too random for her not to have known she was heading there. So what was she doing there?

He watched as she climbed out of her car and headed over to the reception office, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she did, and sat there until she had checked herself in. She took the key to the room from the man behind the desk with a smile and headed out again, returning to her car. Dean ducked down slightly to ensure that he wouldn't be seen, and waited until she had pulled out of the parking lot before straightening himself up again.

"What the hell are you up to, Ali?" he asked, shaking his head to himself as her car turned a corner out of sight. He was beyond suspicious.

Dean climbed out of his own car and headed over to the reception office. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. The man sitting behind the desk gave a brief glance up at him from behind the newspaper he was reading, but said nothing, simply returned his attention to the pages before him. He cleared his throat in some attempt to gain the man's attention, but nothing. "Hey." He spoke, and with a heavy sigh he dropped the newspaper to the desk. "The, uh, the girl who just checked in here, which room is she staying in?"

The man frowned a little, confused. "And, you are?"

"I'm her brother." The man looked him up and down, dubious, and scoffed. "What's the problem?"

The man shrugged. "You tell me, pal." he muttered, voice gruff. "You could be anyone."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him for a moment, debating the idea of fighting a confession out of him. He had come too far not to find some real answers. His attention fell to the book lying open on the desk, and his eyes quickly scanned the page. Even upside down, he could clearly see that his sister's name wasn't on it. Although, her handwriting was. Next to the words Room Six, she had written a name — _Ashley Scott._

"You know what, forget it." Dean stepped back and offered him a smile. "Doesn't matter."

Dean headed out of the office and towards the rooms. He glanced back over his shoulder through the bright sunlight, just to ensure that the man wasn't watching him, and he came to a stop outside of the door. He tried the handle, sceptical, to find it locked. Closing his eyes, he knew what he had to do. He wasn't proud of himself, but it had to be done. He turned and headed around to the other side of the old building. The motel looked crappy enough to take the chance. He ducked under the window of the office and found the path around the back of the rooms. The grass there was overgrown and almost reached his knees, but he barely noticed. He found the room he was looking for and smirked, stepping forwards and pushing on the bathroom window. For a moment it didn't budge, and he was certain he was going to have to go and sit in the car, but, with a harder shove, it opened, and he found himself climbing through it.

He stepped out of the bathroom and into the room, flipping on the light as he did.

He was in, and she was busted.

Now it was just a case of sitting and waiting for her.

* * *

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 08:13PM._

There was a smile on Alison's face as she pushed open the door to the motel room, one which instantly faded at the sight of the man sitting on the end of the bed closest to the door. Her face completely dropped, and she looked torn between running back out of the room and fainting. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him, glancing around the room, and he knew she was making sure that it was just him there.

Dean smiled at her, smug, because he knew that he'd caught her out. "I could ask you the same thing, _Ashley._ "

Her face paled at the name. "What?"

"Ohio." he pondered, standing from the bed to face her properly. "It's hardly California State." Alison opened and closed her mouth, she was lost for words. "I told you this wasn't over, Ali. I think you forget, I've been your age, I'm the one who taught you how to lie to mom and dad. You can't get this stuff past me. So, come on, what are you up to?"

"Dean..." She tried to say something, but, he could tell, she couldn't find the words.

He narrowed his eyes at her, trying to work out what was going on. Even there, knowing that she had been caught out, she still couldn't tell him what it was. That's how he knew, it had to be bad. "Please, god, tell me you aren't some kind of prostitute."

Her head snapped up at that. "What?" she exclaimed. "Why would you even ask me that?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, why the hell else would you be checking into some seedy motel under a fake name? Huh?" He shook his head at her. "Normal people don't do that, Alison."

Alison sighed, shaking her head to herself, and shrugged. What did he expect her to say? She stepped further into the room and dropped the bag she was carrying to the floor before she shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it carelessly to one of the beds. "I can't believe you followed me up here." she muttered, more to herself than to him. A part of her was more annoyed at herself that she hadn't even noticed the same car behind her for the past ten hours. "Kinda stalkerish, don't you think?"

"Well, you didn't really leave me much of a choice, did you?" he said. "I mean, did you honestly believe that I was gonna let you go running off alone like this? Thought you knew me better than that, kiddo. So, come on, you already know you're busted. Spill it. What are you hiding?" He narrowed his eyes at the bag she had dropped beside the bed, almost out of sight, as though she had wanted to hide it before he had noticed it. It wasn't the one she had left the house with that morning. "What's in the bag?"

"Nothing." she muttered, as though it wasn't a big deal.

"Really?" he pressed, dubious. "Looked pretty heavy for a bag with nothing in it." he commented. "Show me."

"What?" She huffed a laugh. "No."

"Alison." he warned. "Show me."

"Are you kidding me right now?" She scoffed. "You wanna search my bag?"

Dean's face was like thunder. He wasn't screwing around anymore. "Do I look like I'm kidding?" he asked her. "So, unless you want me to haul your ass back to Kansas with me right now, hand it over."

Alison sighed, reluctant, but picked up the bag all the same. She was already busted, it was going to come out eventually, it might as well be now. She dropped the bag down onto the bed in front of him and took a step back with a shrug. "Knock yourself out."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, before he turned his attention to the bag before him. He opened it, he didn't know what to expect. He wasn't all that sure that he even wanted to look inside it, but it was the only way that he was going to get any answers. What he saw inside it was the last thing he had ever expected. He pulled it out, eyes wide, and looked to her. "This is a gun." he stated simply. "Why do you have a gun? How did you even get a gun?" He dropped it to the bed and turned his attention back to the bag. "Oh, and not just a gun, a shotgun, too." He pulled out something else, raising his eyebrows. "Bag of rock salt." he commented. "That's...normal."

Alison closed her eyes, it was almost painful to watch. "Dean—"

"Lighter fluid." he said, pulling a bottle out of the bag and tossing it to the bed. "And, a packet of matches."

"Dean—"

"Wow, Alison. Just, wow." He looked from the bag to her and shrugged. "What the hell am I supposed to make of any of that? You know, I didn't think it was gonna come to this, but I am literally begging you, what's going on?"

It took Alison a long moment to respond to the question, she looked up at him, and her eyes found his, pleading with her for some kind of an explanation. "You really wanna know what I'm doing here? Fine." She looked down, shaking her head slowly. "I'm hunting a ghost."

Dean blinked, and then blinked again, frowning as though this time he really did think that she had lost her mind. For a moment he was sure that he had heard her wrong, that she was screwing with him on purpose, but her expression didn't change. She _had_ to be messing with him. It was all one big joke, that's all he could put it down to. "A ghost?" He raised his eyebrows, anything but impressed. "Really? That's the best you can come up with?" He scoffed. "Look, Ali, if you're doing something you shouldn't be, you know I wasn't serious, I won't tell mom and dad, just, come on, give me some credit."

"I wasn't kidding, Dean." she stated bluntly. "I'm hunting a ghost."

It was as though she really believed what she was saying to him, and it was starting to worry him ."Ghosts aren't real, Alison." he told her, and he stepped forwards, pressing the back of his palm to her forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

Alison rolled her eyes at him. "You see, this is why I didn't wanna tell you. You think I'm insane." She smacked his hand away from her face and frowned. "I'm fine. I know what I'm talking about." But he didn't look the least bit convinced. He quirked an eyebrow, sceptical. "Look, I'm not crazy, alright? I'm not deranged, I'm not screwed in the head."

Dean simply looked confused. "Alison—"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me." she muttered, she almost sounded hurt, disappointed. He never questioned her, on anything, if Alison said something, generally, he would believe her. He never doubted her and he never asked for proof. But, even she knew, this time it was a step too far. It was too much to ask him to believe. "You know what, you think I'm nuts, stick around. You'll see."

"Oh," Dean huffed a laugh. "I'm not going anywhere, Alison. Don't you worry about that."

With a sigh, Alison dropped down heavily to sit on the bed. "I can't believe this is happening." she murmured.

"You and me both, sister." Dean commented. He sighed lightly and moved to sit down on the bed beside her. He softened slightly. "Look," His voice was calmer, quieter. "Whatever you are doing here, whether you're hunting a ghost or not, I'm guessing you're not doing anything tonight, right?" She glanced up at him and shrugged. "Right, so how about tonight we just forget all of it and just hang out, huh? We don't have to talk about any of this until tomorrow. And, don't get me wrong, you are still so, _so_ busted. But I don't wanna stay here all night in a fight."

Alison nodded slowly. "Yeah," She smiled. "Sounds good."


	7. Relying On Trust

_Thank you all for reading the last chapter, and a special massive thank you to those of you who reviewed!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Seven: Relying on Trust**

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 10:-01AM._

Dean gasped awake, sitting up in bed so fast that it made him dizzy. His eyes were wide, his breathing was heavy, and there was a thin sheen of sweat at his brow. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, shaking his head to himself as he tried to, once again, push back the memories that had disturbed his dreams. It had become a regular thing for him lately, and he was reluctant to give it much thought anymore.

"Morning." A voice said simply, and it was only then that he remembered where he was. He wasn't at home. He looked up, apprehensive, to see Alison staring at him from across the room. She sat at the table, hair straighteners in one hand and a lock of wavy hair in the other, green eyes fixed to him. He could see from where he sat, she looked worried, shocked, confused. "Are you alright?"

Dean cleared his throat and pulled a hand roughly down his face, composing himself. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good." He nodded, forcing up a smile as he pushed himself from the bed. "So, ghost hunting, right? We still going with that story?" he asked, voice bright, enthusiastic.

Alison narrowed her eyes at him, noting his clear attempt at diverting the conversation away from what she had just witnessed, but she chose not to comment. She could tell, he already looked uncomfortable enough, he didn't need her to start throwing questions at him. She smiled at him, returning her attention to her hair, and nodded. "Yeah, we're still going with that story." she commented. "I got you coffee." she told him, gesturing to the cup on the table.

"Thanks." He moved to sit down on the chair beside her, simply watching her for a moment as she straightened the waves from her blonde hair. His eyes fell to the bag on her bed, and he raised a brow. "What's in the bag?" he questioned, because, at that point, he didn't know if he could anticipate anything she was going to do.

Alison smirked at him. "Take a look." she said, and her expression only made him curious. "While you were... _dreaming_...I did some shopping."

Dean pushed himself to stand and crossed the room, picking up the bag and looking inside. "You bought a suit?" he asked, perplexed. "Why do I need a suit to hunt a ghost, exactly?"

"You'll see." she said simply, and he could tell that she seemed to be enjoying herself.

It was only then that he really looked at her. "You look different." he commented. There was a thin layer of make up on her face, done so much different to what it usually was. Somehow it seemed there was more of it than usual, yet much more subtle. "You look...older. What are we doing?"

"We're gonna go speak to someone." she told him, but she didn't look away from the mirror in front of her.

"Someone?" he pressed. "Who?"

But Alison simply smiled at him again. "Go get ready." she told him. "I'll explain it on the way."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her, considering pressing for a better explanation, but he knew that there was no point. He sighed, reluctant, and snatched up the plastic bag from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom with it. He didn't have the first clue what they were doing, he wasn't all that sure that she did, either. The previous night he had been sure that she was simply screwing with him. He had contemplated during the night whether it was all one big joke, that his parents and brother were all in on it with her, that she was going to take him somewhere and they were all going to jump out of a closet wearing white bedsheets with holes cut out for eyes. But even they weren't that bad, were they? Ghost hunting? What did that even mean? Was she going to pull out a video camera and try to make her own version of Ghost Hunters? Surely his sister wasn't planning on that? She had always called those shows lame, and, as far as he had known, she had never believed in the paranormal before.

But, she had known the night before that she had been caught out in whatever she was up to. What incentive did she have to continue lying to him? What was the point? Was she going to try and make something up? Pretend that it was all an innocent road trip alone to check out some haunted house? That wasn't her style. Or, maybe she really did believe in what she was saying. That was the scariest thought. That his sister somehow believed that she was really there to hunt some kind of ghost down and kill it. He didn't believe in ghosts, he hadn't known that she did. He didn't expect that they were going to find one. A part of him knew that he should have hauled her back home the second the word ghost had slipped from her mouth, so why was he still there?

The largest part of Dean, the part with the sense, told him that she was playing a game with him. He didn't want to believe that, but it seemed the most logical explanation. It all made sense. The only part he couldn't understand was why had she avoided him for an entire week? Why had she refused to speak to him, to even be in the same room as him? Why would she work so hard on something if it really was some silly prank? He wanted to understand what was going on in her head, and so he had made the decision to go along with it. He was going to play the game with her, let her take him wherever she wanted. He was going to go along with it until she gave up, until she either realised that what she was saying was insane, or she caved and told him the real reason she was being so secretive.

Dean stepped out of the bathroom again, and he looked his sister up and down slowly. She wore some black trousers with a pale blue shirt tucked into them. Her hair was pinned up in a way he had never seen it done before. She looked almost like some kind of business woman. He had never seen her look like that before. Whatever this was, she was taking it seriously. She looked so grown up, so much older than she ever had before.

"Wow." she commented, and a smirk appeared on her face as she looked up at him. "Looking sharp, bro."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Would you _please_ tell me what we're doing?"

Alison stepped forwards and raised an eyebrow, unfastening his tie before she began to redo it. Dean watched her with a frown, debating whether there was any point in asking her what the problem had been in the first place, but he remained silent. He knew it would be a losing battle. She finished and stepped back, and he gave an impressed sound at the sight. His sister could tie a tie better than him, who knew?

"Come on," she pressed, grabbing her jacket from the back of one of the chairs. "We gotta go."

Dean watched after her for a moment as she pulled open the door to the motel room, still a little perplexed, before a thought occurred to him. "Wait, what about breakfast?"

But Alison ignored him, and, with a hesitant sigh, he followed.

* * *

 _Fifteen minutes later_

Alison said nothing as she pulled up the car. Dean looked around slowly, he couldn't say where they were, he had genuinely no idea. They were parked on a street somewhere, it looked pretty normal, quiet, there was nothing going on, at least, not that he could see. "You gonna tell me where we are, yet?" he pressed. "Or are you gonna leave me guessing all day?"

Alison turned down the music on the radio and smiled at him. "We're here to talk to her." she said, nodding over the road to where a woman was unlocking the front door of her house. "Her husband died a few days ago, freaky death."

Dean glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. "Freaky, how?"

She shook her head. "Not important."

"Ali," Dean sighed, he was starting to wonder just how far she was planning on taking it. "If what you're saying is true, the woman just lost her husband, you can't go bothering her. Come on, let's just head home and we won't ever talk about it again, please?"

Alison shook her head again. "All part of the job, Dean." she told him simply as she pushed open the door of the car. "You coming, or not?"

Dean thought about it for a moment, what they were doing was insane, it was borderline creepy. He didn't like it at all. But he wasn't about to let her do whatever she was doing alone. Reluctantly, he nodded and climbed out of the car with her, straightening up his suit as he did. He followed her over the street and up the stairs to the house. He noticed, she seemed more than calm in what she was doing, it was like she had done it a million times before. With the amount of fake college trips she had made, he wouldn't be surprised if she had. She reached out and rang the doorbell, subconsciously brushing the stray pieces of hair from her face as she did.

The woman they had watched enter the house just moments ago opened the door and looked between them slowly, as though suspicious. "Can I help you?" she asked, looking more towards Dean than Alison, and he just didn't know what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, silently begging her to save him.

"Mrs Taylor? Hi." Alison said sweetly, confident. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled something out, holding it up to the woman. "I'm agent Jones, this is my partner, agent Walker, we're with the state police, would you mind if we asked you a couple questions about your husband's death?"

The woman seemed to consider her words for a moment, looking between them once again, but stepped aside to allow them inside. "Sure." she said quietly. "Come in."

"Thank you."

Alison looked back at Dean and smiled before they followed the woman into her house. She walked them through to the living room and turned to face them, her eyes slightly narrowed, more towards her than him. "You look a little young." she commented.

Dean looked down to her and raised his eyebrows, as if to ask her how she planned to get herself out of this one, but her expression never faltered, she simply smiled at the woman again. "I get that a lot." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out something that looked like a business card, so fast that he didn't get a chance to look at it. He had a feeling she had been expecting the comment from her. "If it would make you feel better to speak to my supervisor before answering any questions, please, go ahead."

The woman regarded her for a long moment, and then took the card, frowning. "Yeah, I think I'll do that."

They watched as she headed out of the room, reading the card as she did. "Uh, quick question, Ali, who's gonna answer the phone?" Dean asked her, his voice hushed to ensure he wouldn't be heard. "The cops?"

Alison scoffed, shaking her head slowly. "No, because that would be stupid." she stated simply. "There's a hunter, his name's Bobby Singer, he kinda watches everyone's backs, takes the calls when we get made for not being legit law enforcement."

"Bobby Singer?" Dean repeated, it was just getting better and better. "You're hanging out with old guys who condone faking feds now?"

She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that he's old?"

Dean rolled his eyes at her, he wasn't in the mood to joke around with her. "Not the point." he muttered. "You know you can go to prison for this, right? You're breaking the law here. You're impersonating an officer."

"So are you." she countered.

"Whatever." he snapped. "This isn't looking good for you right now, kiddo. We need to go, now, before she comes back."

"Okay, one, stop panicking. Two, we aren't going anywhere. And, three, for the record, I'm not _hanging out_ with anybody." she said, pausing to ensure that the woman was still on the phone. "I've never met the guy. I've spoke to him, _once_ , to get some advice on a Rugaru. He's a nice guy."

Dean looked perplexed. "Advice on a what now?"

"Never mind." she muttered. "Let's just say that he's a friend of a friend who's doing us _both_ a favour right now and leave it at that, okay?"

"No, not okay." Dean shook his head at her. "None of this is okay."

"I'm sorry about that." A voice came from behind them, and they both jumped a little, so engrossed in their own argument to even remember where they were for a moment. "It's just, I can't believe how young you look." she said, handing the card back to her.

Alison chuckled. "Yeah, like I said, I hear it a lot, I've got such a baby face. I'm actually twenty-five." Dean scoffed at that, quickly covering the sound with a cough, and forcing a smile. "Now," Alison continued, shooting him a glare. "Would you be able to tell us what happened to your husband?"

The woman nodded slowly, looking anywhere but them as she spoke. "I, uh, I came home from work, and he was..." She looked up at the light above them, shaking her head to herself. "Hanging there. From the light shade. He used the cord from the lamp, I mean, why?" Tears filled up in her eyes. "I just don't understand. My husband didn't kill himself."

Alison looked up at her, curious. "You seem very certain."

"Just the night before we were talking about having kids. He kissed me goodbye that morning and asked what was for dinner." She paused for a moment, composing herself. "Why would he do that if he was planning on killing himself? And his fingers..."

"His fingers?" Dean pressed, eyebrows raised, he didn't even realise he'd said it until it had come out. He wasn't even sure he wanted to hear anything more. What they were doing was wrong, so wrong.

"They were bloody, from his neck." she explained. "He was clawing at his neck as he died. Like he..."

"Like he changed his mind." Dean finished for her.

The woman nodded. "Or someone made his mind up for him." she added darkly.

Alison looked up at her sadly and nodded. "I'm very sorry for your loss, ma'am." she said, so sincere that Dean could've sworn right there she should have been an actress. "Thank you for your help, we'll see ourselves out."

Dean nodded at her, before turning and quickly following his sister out of the house. He pulled the door closed behind himself and headed down the steps to the road, he didn't know what to say. "It's official," he muttered, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

She rolled her eyes and pulled open the door of the car, climbing inside. "I think you're over exaggerating."

"Well, I think you're under exaggerating." he retorted, but she didn't seem too concerned with what he thought.

"Come on," She started the car and pulled her seatbelt around herself, taking off down the road. "Let's grab some lunch."

"Grab some lunch?" Dean frowned at her. "After all of that you still feel like eating? What were we even doing there, Ali? What does his death have to do with any of this? I don't know if anyone's ever told you, kid, but pretending to be cops to bug grieving widows for info on a death is kinda messed up."

"You're not catching on fast, are you?" she asked, glancing between him and the road. "That woman was right. Her husband didn't kill himself."

"What do you mean he didn't kill himself?" he pushed, more than confused. "Did you hear anything that woman just told you?"

"I heard her." she confirmed. "But he didn't kill himself. It wasn't a suicide."

"Hanging from a lampshade, sounds like suicide to me, Ali." he told her bluntly. "Where are you going with this?"

Alison said nothing to him as she pulled the car into the parking lot of a diner. She reached past him to her bag and pulled out a file, taking out a couple of images. "Here," She handed him one, expectant. "Tell me what's wrong there."

Dean sighed and looked over it slowly. It was a photo taken in the living room where they had just been standing. There was a black electrical cord clearly wrapped around the lampshade, and the woman's husband hanging from it. "You mean, aside from the dead body?" he asked slowly. "Where did you even get this? Is is evidence?"

"Like I said, I got a lot done this morning before you woke up." she commented. "Look," She pointed to the photo. "The guy hung himself, right? There's no chair under him, nothing, how did he get up there? He has a lamp wrapped around his neck, but why is the bulb lit? Because it sure as hell ain't plugged in. Why does he have big claw marks in his neck, why was he trying to pull it off if he wanted to hang himself?"

Dean took a longer look at the photo, she was right. He never would have noticed any of that himself. He looked from the picture to her, and he could see, she was completely serious about everything she was saying. "You're not kidding around here, are you?" he asked, and it was suddenly sinking in that it clearly wasn't a joke to her.

"No, I'm not." she answered, genuine. "Look, last night, I know what I told you was a lot to take in, and I know it's hard to believe, trust me, I know, but this is real, Dean." Her eyes met his, and he could see it right there, she needed him to believe her. She was asking him to trust her, as if she thought there would ever be a time that he wouldn't. "Come on," she coaxed, returning the file to her bag. "Let's grab some food."

Dean nodded and climbed out of the car, heading over the parking lot with her in silence. He couldn't even begin to think of what to say, about anything. It was like his sister had an entire life that no one had ever known about. He understood now, it wasn't a joke, not to her. The lengths she had gone to in just the past hour was proof enough of that. Whether ghosts were real or not, he knew for a fact that his sister truly believed that there was one in town, and at what point was he supposed to turn around and tell her anything different? How long was he supposed to go along with it before he spoke up? She was talking to people who had lost their families, she was pretending to be a police officer, she had police files just tucked into her handbag as though it was nothing unusual to possess. How far was he supposed to let her go?

They ordered their food and sat down in a booth towards the back of the diner with their drinks. Dean looked over her slowly, for a short, terrifying moment, he was sure that he barely even recognised her. "How did you get into this?" he asked. "Because I'm pretty sure that when I left you would have laughed at the idea of a ghost."

Alison took a moment to consider her answer, and shrugged. "I met this guy—"

"Oh, there we go." Dean concluded, nodding to himself as though to say he should have worked that out for himself earlier. "So all of this is about trying to impress some punk ass kid? What did I tell you before I left? Huh? No boys."

"Are you going to listen to me or are you going to yell at me?" she asked him bluntly.

Dean held up his hands. "Sorry." he stated. "Go ahead."

"I went to some college weekend," She noticed him raise his eyebrows sceptically. "Legit this time." He still looked dubious. "Well, we went for the party, not for the college, but...anyway...that's beside the point."

He huffed a laugh. "Go on."

"While I was there, I don't know how to explain it, I got this feeling, something was wrong. I felt like someone was watching me, you know? I was at this party one night, there was something there."

"What was it?" Dean pressed, curious.

"Ghost. Haunting the campus." She shrugged, her eyes fixed to the glass on the table before her. "I thought I was gonna die. There was this one moment, I was so sure that was it for me. And then this guy, Dylan, he just showed up out of nowhere, waving this shotgun, and he saved my life. He told me it was a ghost, I didn't believe him, but, I ended up kinda helping him get rid of it. After that, I went home, I started looking into it, and I realised, there's so much more out there in the world than we know, Dean."

At that point, he really couldn't decide whether he believed her or not. "Like what?" he pushed. "Vampires? Are vampires real?"

"Yeah, actually." she confirmed.

"Werewolves?"

"Yeah."

Dean thought for a moment, and she could tell that he was trying to catch her out. "What about possession? You know like the exorcist? Head spinning, the whole nine?"

"Yes, Dean." She smiled a little. "Demons are real, too."

"Huh." He frowned as he thought harder, and he snapped his fingers. "Aliens."

Alison rolled her eyes at that. "Not as far as I know."

Dean huffed, and a part of him felt a little disappointed. But he brushed off the thought. "Alright, genius, so what happened to her husband? Is it a ghost?"

Alison nodded. "Sounds like it. Should be a pretty simple job."

"Simple?" He scoffed. "None of this is simple. Are you sure that you know how to deal with this?"

"Of course I do." She frowned. "I'm not an idiot, Dean."

"Hey, I'm not suggesting that you are." he stated. "I'm simply suggesting that it's not exactly common knowledge to know how to take out a ghost. Or a vampire. Or a werewolf. Or a demon. Or possibly an alien."

She found herself smiling at him, and nodded. "Seriously, trust me."

"I do trust you." he said, automatically. "That's why I'm sitting here and not hauling your ass back to Kansas. Not that I haven't thought about it. So, what do we do?"

"We find out who the ghost is. That's the not so fun part, the research." She looked away from him, knowing that he wasn't going to like the next part. "And then we dig up the grave."

Dean choked on his drink, spluttering unceremoniously over the table. "I'm sorry?" he choked. "We do what?"

"We dig up the body, and then we salt and burn the bones." she stated calmly, as though his reaction had never happened.

Dean composed himself, frowning at her. "Hence the rock salt and lighter fluid." he muttered. "Naturally."

Alison smiled. "So, are you in?"

Dean sat back in his seat and sighed. He couldn't believe what was going on, he couldn't believe anything she was saying, and he couldn't believe that he was actually going along with it, but he nodded, and a smile came to his face. He trusted her just enough to give her a chance to prove herself. "Of course I'm in."


	8. Pretending To Believe The Unbelievable

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Eight:** **Pretending To Believe The** **Unbelievable**

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room_ — _07:34AM._

Dean stirred from his sleep, groaning as he threw a heavy arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block the bright light he could feel against his face. With a sigh, he reluctantly opened his eyes and pulled a rough hand down his face, trying to force himself awake. He pushed himself to sit up and blinked through the sunlight streaming through the shades. Aside from the brightness that seemed to shine only over where he lay, the room was dim. The lights weren't on, and he had to adjust his vision to make out anything else around him. His eyes fell to Alison, who was sitting at the table, laptop open in front of her, surrounded by scraps of paper. It occurred to him, that was where she had been sitting when he had gone to bed. He glanced over to the other bed, there was no doubt, it hadn't been slept in.

"Have you been at that all night?" he asked her, and the concern came through in his words, still a little slurred with sleep.

Alison jumped at the sound of his voice, not having realised that he was awake, far too lost in whatever she had been reading to care. She rubbed a hand at her eyes, stinging with tiredness. "Uh, not all night, no." She shrugged. "I took a coffee break somewhere around four."

Dean sighed, shaking his head at her. "Ali, you need to sleep, kid."

"People are dying, Dean." she commented, voice dull, almost disheartened. She turned in her chair to face him. "There was another one last night."

It took Dean a moment to realise what she had meant, but then it clicked, she had changed. She was wearing the clothes she had worn when they had been to speak to the wife of one of the victims, and he knew. " _Please_ , tell me you weren't out looking at dead bodies last night? _Alone_."

Alison simply gave another shrug. "I might have taken a quick trip to the crime scene." she answered, nonchalant.

"Jesus, Ali." He considered the idea of telling her it hadn't been a smart move, that she should have woken him to go with her, he even thought about listing the things that could have gone wrong, or telling her what might have happened should she have been caught, but he didn't. This was her thing, not his. She was the one calling the shots, not him. She was the one who knew what she was doing, not him. He had made the decision to go along with her, and that was what he was going to do. He had absolutely no idea what they were doing there, she did. "What happened?"

"Same deal." she muttered. "Guy hung himself, no note, no reason," She tossed her pen down to the table and sighed, defeated. "No clue."

"Alright," Dean pushed back the covers and climbed from his bed. "I've seen that look before, usually when you were trying to do math. Don't stress." He crossed the room and dropped into the chair beside her at the table. "Talk to me."

Alison regarded him for a moment, and nodded. "Okay. First guy, Matthew Johnson, couple weeks ago, hangs himself in his living room with his belt. Next guy, John Davis, few days later, hangs himself in his office with his tie. Guy after that, Mark Taylor, lamp guy. And now this one, Colin Harris, found hanging in a parking lot by his shoelaces."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Parking lot?"

"Yeah," She sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair, he could see how tired she was. "None of them knew each other, I mean, apart from them all being men and hanging, there is absolutely no connection between them. Well, not that I can see, anyway."

"So," Dean concluded. "All we got is a bunch of unrelated suicides that you're pretty sure aren't suicides?"

"Bingo." she mumbled.

"Huh." Dean thought for a moment, and he smiled. "Maybe we should recruit Sammy, he'd be good at this part." he quipped. Alison huffed a laugh, but he could tell that it was forced. She was too tired to give much more of a reaction. She was stuck, and he knew her well enough that she wouldn't stop until she worked out what was going on there. There was no use fighting her on it. "Hey, have you eaten?" he pressed. "You need some breakfast in you, the brain doesn't work well on no food and no sleep, kiddo."

Alison looked up at him and smiled a little. "Where'd you hear that crap?"

* * *

 _Lawrence, Kansas — Home — Sixteen Months Earlier_

Dean gave a soft sigh as he stared ahead at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This day had once seemed like a lifetime away. When he had heard the date it had seemed so far into the future he had neglected to worry about it. But here it was. It had rolled around so quickly he wasn't even sure how he felt about it. It was like when the year rolls into October and everyone asks how it's almost time for Christmas again when it seems only weeks since the last one. He couldn't understand where the time had gone. The precious moments with his family that had seemed so certain, the ones he had promised himself he could cherish while he had them, they were about to come to an end.

At that point, he wasn't even sure that he remembered how to breathe. Every breath he took seemed forced, unnatural, as though the concentration he focused on it somehow changed it. He didn't know what to think, what to expect, what to feel. He was about to enter a whole new world. And a part of him was afraid.

"So," A light voice sounded behind him, and he looked through the mirror to see Alison's reflection behind him. She stood in the doorway, still wearing her pyjamas, arms folded tightly over her chest. "This is it."

Dean nodded slowly. "This is it." he confirmed. He glanced back at her over his shoulder and offered a smile.

"Wow." she commented. "You look exhausted."

"Well," He chuckled to himself, offering a shrug. "Wasn't gonna spent the last night I've got with my favourite sister sleeping, was I?"

Alison laughed. "I still can't believe you picked the Chucky movies for our last movie night."

"Hey," Dean stopped her, face serious. "Those are classics." he told her. He neglected to mention that he had chosen them because he knew that there were six movies, that somehow it was as though he could make the last night he had with his family last longer. He didn't tell her that his last night home hadn't been one he'd wanted to spend sleeping, but one where he had spent time with his sister doing what they did best—laughing at horror movies and eating junk food—as though he could ignore what was to come when the sun rose.

Alison simply rolled her eyes at him, not seeming to think anything of it. She shook her head slowly, amused, but, despite her attitude, he could see the emotion behind her eyes, even through her reflection. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked him, concerned. "I mean, it's a big day, right? The brain doesn't work well on no food and no sleep."

"You sound worried." he quipped. But it was only as he turned to face her that he truly understood the look on her face. She looked apprehensive, almost scared. She looked beyond concerned, more than worried. His sister looked ready to cry. "What's the matter?"

Alison took a short breath and smiled a little, shaky. "Look, let me just tell you this now, because I can guarantee that I'm probably gonna cry later, and I know I'll regret it if I don't say it." He frowned down at her, a little confused, but nodded to let her know that he was listening. "I'm gonna miss you, Dean, so much. I don't know how to explain it. I mean, you're just always... _there_. You know? Like, who's gonna stay up with me all night watching horror movies and eating candy when you're gone? Who's gonna be there for me to hang out doing stupid stuff with? Who's gonna bail me out when I get into trouble? Who's gonna be my best friend when you're gone? And, I know I'm totally rambling right now because I feel like I'm gonna cry, but," She looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes, and laughed a little. "As much as I'm gonna miss having you around, I want you to know, I'm so, _so_ , proud of you, Dean. Really. You're the best big brother and best friend anyone could ask for, and it's not gonna be the same around here without you."

Dean blinked, as if a little taken aback, and took a step forwards. "Hey," He smiled as he pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Come on, I'm still gonna be your big brother, and I'm still gonna be your best friend, nothing is going to change any of that. I'm gonna miss you, too, kiddo." he said softly. "Like you wouldn't even believe. But, goodbye is never forever. I'll be back, Ali, I promise."

Alison nodded, and he could feel her tears against the front of his t-shirt. "You better be back."

* * *

 _Motel Room_ — _08:12AM._

When Dean returned to the motel room again with breakfast he sighed, his sister had barely moved an inch from where she sat at the table. Her laptop was still open in front of her, and her head was leaning against her arm before it. Her eyes were heavy, and her finger repeatedly tapped one of the keys with so little enthusiasm he was sure she was ready to pass out right there. She looked ready to collapse. He shook his head to himself and kicked the door closed behind himself, turning on the light as he entered. "And what, dare I ask, are you doing now?" he pressed, bemused.

"Stalking the dead guy on Facebook." she answered, as though it was such a normal thing to say. "He's _so_ boring. All he seems to do is go to these office parties with his secretary and drink white white spritzers."

Dean pulled a face. "Seriously?"

"Oh, no, sorry," She held up a hand in way of an apology. "He fishes, too."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he placed the bag of food down on the table and shrugged out of his jacket. "He fishes? Why?"

She scoffed. "I know, right?"

He stepped forwards and watched over her shoulder as she flipped through the pictures. And, after two or three, he understood the look of boredom on her face. "This guy married?" he asked, curious.

Alison frowned, confused. "Yeah, why?"

"And," He reached out and held her hand before she could flip to another picture. "Is that his wife?"

She sat up a little straighter and clicked on the woman standing with him in the picture, opening up her profile. "No, I guess not."

"This chick, she's in a few of his pictures, don't you think?" He threw her a look, but he could see that she wasn't following. "They seem a little... _close_...to you?"

"What?" She raised an eyebrow. "You think he was having an affair?"

Dean shrugged, taking a drink of his coffee. "Who knows." he said, nonchalant. "Maybe the guy isn't as boring as he seems." He looked down to her when she didn't respond. Her brow was furrowed, and he recognised the look immediately. "You look like you've had an idea. What is it?"

"You might be onto something there." she said, glancing over a couple of papers on the table. He ignored the fact that they were clearly photocopies of police reports. "The first guy who hung himself, he was found by Maddie Smith. She's a local babysitter."

"So?"

"So the guy had no kids." she said.

"Wow." Dean shook his head slowly, giving a dry laugh. "What a way to find out your husband's doing the dirty."

Alison rolled her eyes. "And, according to you, this guy was banging his secretary."

"So, what?" Dean pressed. "You thinking these guys are all cheats? Is that really the kind of thing a ghost kills over?"

"Well," She seemed to contemplate her response for a moment. "Not just any ghost." She looked up at him with a smirk. "Sounds like a woman in white."

"And, what's a woman in white?" he asked, not following her at all. Honestly, he had no idea what she was talking about. "Is that a ghost?"

"Pretty much. Legend usually goes the woman finds out her husband is unfaithful, and in, you know, temporary madness, murders their children before killing themselves." she explained.

Dean blinked, not sure how to take what he was being told. He was trying his best to keep up with her, but she seemed to be on another level. "And, what? Her ghost kills anyone who cheats on someone?"

"Exactly." There was a new found look of excitement on her face, and any sign of weariness had long since vanished. "Dude, you're a genius."

"Uh, thanks." He frowned a little, not entirely sure what he had done. "So, woman in white, what does that mean? What do we do?"

"Research."

His face fell slightly. "Awesome." he muttered. Alison turned back to her laptop, and he could see that she was more than prepared to begin, but he wasn't taking it. As far as he was concerned, she was calling the shots on the ghost hunting, but not about anything else. He slammed the laptop closed before she even had the chance to get near it. "Ah, ah, ah. You eat first."

"Dean—"

" _Now_."

Alison blinked, eyes wide, and for a long moment she looked speechless. "You sounded just like dad then."

"I know." he admitted slowly, a little concerned. "That was weird. But, still, food first."

Begrudgingly, she nodded and took the bag from him. He smiled a little at the attitude, it was something he'd missed about her. There, in that moment, he knew exactly who she was. He knew he was sitting with his sister. It wasn't the girl he had appeared to come back to, the one who had been sneaking around and lying to their parents, it was the kid who didn't like to be told what to do, the one whose determination didn't falter once she had her mind set on it—no matter how insane it seemed—the girl who could tell him anything, and never had to fake anything around him. He still wasn't completely sold on the idea that they were hunting a monster, but he knew that she believed it, and that was enough for him to still be sitting there.

At times, he knew, he had far too much faith in his sister. Even when logic told him that everything about a situation was wrong, he was still more than willing to give her the chance to prove herself.

Dean didn't believe in ghosts, he didn't believe in monsters or spirits or life after death. He didn't believe in much of anything.

But it was clear, Alison did.

And a part of him wasn't sure how far she was willing to go to prove herself to him. Was he really comfortable with the idea of going to dig up a grave? Wasn't that what she had said they needed to do? He was still waiting for the punch line to drop when, in reality, he knew it wasn't going to happen. She wasn't kidding around. He was more than sure of that. He just couldn't make himself believe in what she was trying to tell him was really out there.

But, in the hour after breakfast that he sat there and watched her stare at her laptop screen, while she scribbled down unreadable things on the notepad beside her, while her eyes frantically scanned the screen before her, he could see just how seriously she seemed to take things. Her fingers typed furiously at the keys. There was no interrupting her. There was no stopping her. There was no getting between her and whatever she was looking for. Alison was determined, she was intent, and, by the sudden look of surprise on her face, he was sure she had found something.

Her eyes never left the screen, still scanning the words there. "Hey." she said, trying to grab his attention, unaware that he had been watching her all along.

Dean rose from where he sat on one of the beds, eyebrows raised. "What is it?" he asked, curious. "You got something?"

"I think so." He crossed the room and moved to stand behind her, crouching to look over her shoulder at the news article open on her laptop screen. There was an old family photograph attached to it—a couple and two children. "This woman, Dianne Winters, in 1932 she murdered her two children before hanging herself in her bedroom."

"Huh." Dean nodded slowly. "So, you think she's our ghost?"

Alison shrugged. "Only one way to find out." She tilted her head back to look up at him. "We gotta dig her up."

He sighed deeply. "I was afraid you were gonna say that."

With a roll of her eyes, she closed the laptop. "You don't have to come with me, you know." There was a smirk playing on her face, and he knew exactly what it meant. "I can do it alone. If you're scared."

"Hey." Dean stopped her. "I'm coming with you. Whether you want me to or not. I've seen Poltergeist, and, if you are right, and you're not, you know, crazy, I think I can handle it."

"Wow." She huffed a laugh. "Still think I'm crazy, huh? I'll show you something crazy, Deano." She stood from her chair and brushed past him with a grin. "You'll see."

And, with that, she disappeared into the bathroom. He wasn't sure he liked the look on her face. It usually meant something bad was coming his way, and, in their current situation, he didn't like to think what that could be. They were going to dig up a grave. They were going to dig up a dead body, an actual skeleton. What part of that wasn't completely insane? He had no idea how he was still going along with anything she was saying. He didn't believe it for a second.

So why was he still so prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt? Why did he still have so much trust in her?

Why was he so willing to help her? He was ready to dig up a corpse. It didn't even sound real in his own head. He couldn't imagine anything happening when they did dig it up, he couldn't for a second comprehend how she thought there would be a ghost there. Nothing was going to happen. Maybe that was what she needed to see for her to finally understand that ghosts weren't real. Maybe that was why he was still going along with her, because he wanted her to understand it for herself, he wanted to help show her that what she was saying wasn't true, as much as she believed it. It wasn't real. He knew that. And he needed to help her see that, too.


	9. Believing The Unbelievable

_Apologies for my absence! I've missed you all;-))_

 _Thank you for your continued support, you guys are amazing! Hope you like this chapter;-)_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Nine: Believing The** **Unbelievable**

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Graveyard — 11:12PM._

Dean heaved a sigh through the cold air. How had it really come to this? They had been wandering around a grave yard for almost an hour, and he was starting to wish he had stepped in and stopped the whole thing before it had started. He should have dragged his sister kicking and screaming back to Kansas the second the word ghost had passed her lips, because, quite frankly, the whole thing was getting beyond ridiculous. He wasn't even sure she knew what she was looking for herself. He walked behind her, duffel bag full of guns and other things he didn't even want to mention slung over his shoulder, as he watched her shine the flash light over the many graves that surrounded them. He was nothing but uncomfortable.

Truth being told, it wasn't exactly the brother-sister time he'd had in mind when he had set off home. He watched her, shovel hung carelessly over her left shoulder, as she came to a stop, a relieved and satisfied smirk on her face. His eyes fell to the headstone, _Dianne Winters._ It was the grave of the woman from the news article. This was getting _beyond_ insane. Alison had always been nothing but compassionate, and to see her looking down at a grave with such an accomplished smile seemed so out of character for her. It was like he barely knew the girl he was following around any more.

This was it. It was actually happening. She really was going to go through with it. And he couldn't believe it.

"You're really going to dig up a grave, Ali?" Dean asked her, and his tone was almost begging for her to finally admit that she had been screwing with him the entire time.

Alison pushed the shovel down into the ground and turned to him, eyebrows raised, she looked almost amused. "You really did think that this was all a joke, didn't you? You really thought I was trying to prank you. You were waiting for the point I'd give in and stop, weren't you?" Dean opened and closed his mouth, unsure what to say. She took a step closer to him and smirked. "You're about to see some proof." She handed him her shotgun and nodded. "When you see it, shoot it."

Dean took it with a frown. "And, what, _exactly_ , am I looking out for?"

Alison chuckled. "Oh, you'll know it when you see it." she remarked. "Trust me."

Dean shook his head, he wasn't so convinced. "Whatever." he muttered. "Besides, don't you think I'd be better at digging the grave?"

Her eyebrows raised, as if to challenge him. "Oh yeah? And why would that be?"

"You know..." He shrugged, and he already wished he hadn't opened his mouth. "You're kinda tiny. Coffins are a long way down."

He saw her bite back a comment, and she nodded slowly. "I'll get by." she told him. "Just, keep watch, alright?"

Dean nodded. Honestly, he still wasn't all that sure what he was even supposed to be watching out for. Did she mean the ghost? Or people? It crossed his mind that, should they get caught, they could be buying themselves a ticket to a jail cell. How would he explain that one to their parents?

"Ali, I—" But then he saw it, and his words caught in his throat. A woman stood not far behind his sister, staring at him. Her face was pale, her eyes were dark, and she looked disturbingly similar to the woman Alison had showed him in the newspaper article. The woman wore a long, black, old fashioned dress, and he had a sinking feeling it was either the one she had died in or the one she had been buried in. It was like a scene from a horror movie. For a long moment, time seemed to stand still. He blinked, hard, but she remained. He wasn't seeing things, it wasn't a joke. "Holy shit." he muttered. "Alison."

"What?" she asked, uninterested, not bothering to look up from where she continued to shovel the dirt from the ground.

"Alison." he said again, refusing to tear his eyes away from the woman. "Seriously." he pushed. "Turn the hell around."

"What is it?" Alison turned to face him, but the expression he wore on his face was one that she didn't recognize. Slowly, she turned and followed his eyes over to whatever had him so transfixed behind her. And then she saw it, too. "Dean, shoot it." she told him, her voice, low, quiet. But he didn't react. "Dean!"

And it was at that, the sound of her raised voice, that the woman before them shrieked. It was high pitched, almost deafening, and she moved towards them at an unearthly speed. Inches away, he finally reacted, and he shot the woman right through the face. Alison looked back at him, alarmed, his eyes were wide and his face was pale. "What the fu—"

"Ghost, Dean." she said plainly. "Hate to say I told you so but, told you so."

Dean took a short breath, lowering the gun. Alison had been right all along. She hadn't been kidding. This really was what she had been doing. "Did I just...kill it?" he asked, and he looked beyond confused.

"No," She shook her head. "She'll be back, and probably pissed. Just, keep your eyes open, okay? And, when you see it, shoot it."

From there, they seemed to fall into a pattern. Alison focused on digging away the soil, while Dean watched her back with the shotgun. It almost seemed a little too easy. It didn't take her long to hit the coffin, honestly, he was a little impressed, and he had to wonder how many times she had done it before. As though it was nothing to her, she smashed the wood with the back of the shovel, and she cleared her throat at the quickly becoming familiar sight of a skeleton. Without a word, she climbed effortlessly from the grave and grabbed a shotgun from the duffel bag on the ground, standing side by side with her brother.

In that moment, even through everything that was happening around them, Alison couldn't help but notice, despite the fact it was the first hunt he had ever taken, how easily he seemed to fall into the routine. The two of them worked like a well practiced team. To anyone else it probably would appear as though they had been doing nothing but that for years, with the way that they communicated so well without ever having to open their mouths. They seemed to fall into such an easy and natural pattern, like it was all routine to them already.

"This is where it's gonna get fun." she quipped, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

He watched curiously as she grabbed the salt and began to pour it down over the bones. She glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of a gunshot, just in time to see Dean shoot the pale, transparent form of the ghost away from her, before she turned her attention back to the grave. Once she was done, she tossed the empty salt container to the ground and turned just in time to see the ghost appear behind Dean. Before she could even process a thought, he was thrown somewhere into the darkness by an unseen force.

Her eyes frantically scanned between the graves for him, and for a minute nothing else even came into focus. "Dean?!" she yelled. But there was no answer, and that was how she knew something was wrong. "Dean?!"

There was only one thing she could do at that point. She grabbed the lighter fluid and began to pour it over the corpse. She felt a presence behind her, dark and cold, and she knew it wasn't her brother. Slowly, apprehensive, she turned, and found herself face to face with the ghost. There was a murderous look in the cold, dead eyes that stared back at her. But before she even had the chance to register her next move, barely even a second after she had turned around, the sound of another gunshot echoed through the night air and the woman dissipated in front of her.

Alison took a short breath and looked over to Dean. "Thanks for that." She narrowed her eyes at him, and through the dull light she could see the redness around his neck, as though something had tried to choke him. She frowned at him, as though contemplating something, and then she shook her head. "Ew." she commented. "Really, Dean?"

"What?" he asked, perplexed.

Alison gestured to his neck. "She went for you, not for me." She looked him up and down suspiciously. "Who'd you cheat on?"

"Does it matter?" Dean huffed, as though he couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth, but she simply raised a brow at him. "Come on, Ali, I was in the ninth grade, it was one kiss." But she still appeared dubious, and he sighed. "Maybe more."

"You're disgusting." she told him, a hint of amusement playing on her face. "I hope you apologized to the poor girl."

"I've changed." he muttered, defensive. "I've grown."

"You're awful." she countered.

"I—" Dean stopped, and he raised the shotgun to shoot the ghost over her left shoulder, close enough that she felt the wind from the bullet brush her hair. "Is this really the time to have this argument?"

Alison opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, the ghost appeared again, relentless. She huffed, as though amused, and shrugged, nonchalant. "Guess not." She set off the matches and tossed them ahead to the open grave before her. She felt the heat against her as the body went up in flames, and the woman standing in front of them burned away into nothing. She and Dean stood there for a moment, eyes wide and unblinking. It was as though time dramatically slowed down in that moment, and all signs of chaos faded into nothing.

Dean moved towards her on instinct and grabbed her arm, pulling her back, away from the edge of the flaming grave. "Is it over?" he asked, almost tentative.

"Yeah," She nodded slowly, absent. "It's over." She sat down on the ground, saying nothing more, and gave a soft sigh.

Dean dropped down beside her with a groan, and he looked ahead at the flames before them. The heat burned hot against his face, and the brightness against the black around them burned his eyes, but he didn't turn away. Everything around him felt so surreal, and it was as though he was just waiting to wake up from some insane dream. Everything that had happened from the moment she had told him what she was really doing in town could all have been made up to him, and, yet, there he was.

A little over a week ago he had been in an entirely different world, dreaming about coming home to his normal, stable family, the place where everything was so safe, so secure. How wrong he had been. Where he was now, it was nothing he could ever have anticipated.

After a long moment, lost in his own thoughts, Dean tore his eyes away from the fire and glanced down at her. She was so concentrated on the light before her, as though it was the most interesting thing she had ever witnessed. Just moments ago she had been so full of life and adrenaline, and now he could see it all, he could see Alison, the sister he knew. He could see the compassion, the curiosity, the remorse, the sorrow, all dancing within the flames reflected in her green eyes.

"I was wrong about you." he commented, his voice was quiet, seeming far away, breaking through the silence.

Alison nodded slowly, never blinking. "That's okay." she murmured. "Most people are."

Dean shook his head. "I can't believe what you did tonight." he said, more to himself than to her. It was suddenly sinking it. That was what his sister did. She had done it before, and he didn't even want to imagine some of the sights she had probably seen. He looked back to her, and she seemed lost in her own world, as though there were a million and one thoughts just swarming her mind. "What's on your mind, kiddo?"

"Nothing. Just...thinking." she admitted, her voice was soft. "Those guys, you know, they might have been cheats, but...no one deserves to die like that. And, I mean, their wives are never gonna know why they were really killed. They're gonna live the rest of their lives thinking that their husbands committed suicide, wondering if there was anything they could have done to help them..." she trailed off, giving a deep sigh. "It's not fair."

"No, it's not." Dean agreed. "But, on the other side, you might have just saved another family from going through the same thing. I mean, seriously, Ali, you're small but you're mighty. I never give you enough credit for how good of a person you really are." He placed an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. "My not so baby sister."

Alison smiled, and her head rested against his shoulder. "I'll always be your baby sister."

"You're damn right you will." He smirked at her.

"You did good, Dean." She reached up and ruffled his hair playfully. "I'm quite impressed. I half expected you to turn and run when you saw it."

Dean chuckled. "You know, as weird as this whole thing was, and, don't get me wrong, it was weird, even for us...I'm proud of you." He glanced back towards the open grave before them, still burning. "So, what happens now?"

Alison shrugged. "Nothing." she muttered. "We're done. We re-dig the grave and it's finished."

"Huh." Dean nodded slowly. "So, you know you have that fake police badge? Don't suppose you'd happen to have a fake ID to go with it?"

Alison shifted to face him, eyes narrowed. "What makes you ask that?"

Dean smirked. "Just curious."

He watched as she reached behind him and grabbed the duffel bag, opening one of the smaller side pockets. She dug around it for a moment before she pulled out a couple of cards. "Who do you want?" she asked. "Ashley Scott or Natalie Smith?"

Dean thought the question over for a moment, as though it really mattered, and smirked. "Natalie Smith." She handed him the fake drivers licence and he raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you think Natalie Scott of Portland, Ohio, who, according to this, is twenty-five years old, would go for a beer with me? I mean, you know, I'd ask you but, you're under age."

Alison laughed, really laughed. "I'm sure if you're buying she wouldn't have any reason to say no."

Dean held up his fist, and Alison bumped it with hers. "Plan."


	10. Truth: The Sad, The Angry, And The Scary

_Thank you so much for reading the last chapter, and a special thanks to those who reviewed it, favourited it, followed it or PM'd me, your support means the world!_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Ten: Truth: The Sad, The Angry, And The Scary**

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Bar — 01:32AM._

Dean weaved his way through the crowded bar, dodging people in his path as he headed towards the only table left available when they had walked in, towards the back of the room. The music was loud, yet not deafening, and the crowd around them was what he assumed his sister would be experiencing had she been truthful about going to California. He sat in the seat opposite her and placed two beers down on the table between them. As Alison reached for her own, he held up a finger, as if in warning, to halt her move. "You do _not_ , under _any_ circumstance, tell mom that I'm letting you drink." he told her seriously, though a hint of amusement played on his face.

Alison found herself laughing at the comment as she took the bottle from him. It wasn't the first time they had drank together, far from it, and she was more than sure their mother knew that, but, as far as he were concerned, he was still the one who allowed her to break the rules, and she was more than fine with keeping it that way. Back when she had been seventeen, it would have been a big deal to her, now, drinking with her brother wasn't so out of the ordinary. "Well, since I'm in California right now touring a college campus and you're not, I don't think there's any reason for suspicion." she remarked.

"College." Dean pondered, and a chuckle escaped him at the idea. "I still can't believe they're actually buying that from you." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "You're awful."

"Hey." She frowned at him, as though offended. "I'm totally smart enough to go to college, why is it so hard to believe? And, besides, I already know how to hunt a ghost, what more could they possibly have to teach me?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the comment. "Ghosts." He contemplated the thought of it all, shaking his head to himself slowly. None of it seemed real, as though it hadn't completely sunk in yet what the two of them had done that night. Sitting there with her, having a beer, that seemed real, but the rest of it could all have been nothing but a dream to him. "So, _this_...this is what all the lies were about? All this time you've been hunting ghosts?"

"Among other things." she commented, nonchalant. "You see now why I didn't wanna tell you?"

Dean huffed a laugh, taking a drink of his beer. "Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I get it." He nodded. He couldn't even imagine what might have crossed his mind should she have tried to explain it to him the first time he had asked. "All sounds kinda crazy when you say it out loud. Hell, this whole weekend has been nothing but crazy."

Alison nodded in agreement. She took a drink of her own beer, looking away from him for a moment. "Bet you did less fighting in the army than you have with me since you came home." she muttered. It came out as a joke, but he could hear the guilt clearly behind her words. The two of them never disagreed on anything, not seriously, they always had each other's backs, no matter how crazy. The way they had been before he had followed her there just hadn't been them. Before he had arrived home he never could have imagined a situation that could have the two of them arguing and lying the way they had been. It didn't seem plausible. And a part of him felt just as guilty about it all as he knew she did. But they had moved past it, and he refused to dwell on it. It no longer mattered to him, because he knew the truth.

"Hey, we are not in a fight." he told her, his voice dramatically lower, sincere. He needed her to understand that much. "We never, are, not really. I mean, you're a pain in the ass, but, you know I don't hold that against you." he quipped, and she smiled. When she said nothing, he sighed, sitting up a little straighter in his seat. "Look, you gotta understand, kid, the lying, the sneaking around, it's not like you. I mean, now I know what you've been doing, I get it, I really do, but you can't blame me for being curious. I come home and you suddenly wanna go to college? What the hell was I supposed to think? I was worried, Ali, that's the only reason I followed you."

"No, you're right, I get it." She sighed, a little penitent. "You know I'd never keep anything from you, Dean. But, this? There's just no way to explain this to someone, I mean, it's not like I could tell you over the phone, is it? You'd have been on the first flight home."

"You'd have been in a straight jacket before I left the airport." he remarked. His tone was light, playful, and she laughed.

Dean regarded her for a long moment. There was so much of a difference between the way she had been hunting to the way she was there. She was no longer on high alert, she wasn't looking over her shoulder as though she was expecting something to be lurking behind her in the shadows, she wasn't on edge there, she was relaxed, she was even smiling, and she looked more like his sister there than he had seen since he had been home. "Why do you do it, Ali?" he asked, genuinely curious, because he didn't understand. " _Why_ would you want to do something like this?"

Alison shrugged. "Honestly, I've never given it too much thought." she answered, impassive, but he knew that wasn't completely true. His sister was spontaneous, he knew that much, but not to that extent. She _had_ to have thought about it. And, if he knew her as well as he thought he did, there had to be something that kept bringing her back to it. "I know it seems dark, but, I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"Try me." he pressed.

Alison said nothing, picking at the label on her beer bottle for a minute, seeming to contemplate her response seriously. He could see her thinking over her words before she spoke them, trying to put her feelings into a sentence. That's how he knew, it was complicated, and even she didn't fully understand why she was doing what she was. Her green eyes rose to his, and she knew. "You wanna save people, right? I mean, that's why you went out one day and joined the army. That's why you do what you do, isn't it? You take out the people who wanna hurt people. You take out the bad guys to keep the good guys safe. That's all I'm trying to do here, Dean. I wanna save people, too. It's just...I don't know...a different fight to the one you're fighting."

Dean stared at her, trying to take in what she was saying to him. Whatever he had expected her response to be, it hadn't been that. Was she really saying that what he did for a living in any way compared to what he had seen her do that night? In his eyes, the way he saw it, the way he looked at it, he did a job that he had spent months training for. Alison took out things that most people couldn't even begin to imagine were real, and, more than that, she had trained herself to do it. She did it all on her own. She did it for free, purely out of the goodness of her heart. A part of him barely even knew the girl sitting across from him anymore. It was like she lived a double life. He had always known her to be tough, to be strong, to be fearless, to be selfless, but this was in another league.

"Alison," Dean sighed, he didn't want to be the bad guy, he didn't want to be the one who told her what she could and couldn't do, but he knew that there was no one else who could at that point. He was the only one who knew her secret, and it was all in his hands. He was the only one who could do anything about it. "This is dangerous. What you're doing here, it isn't safe, you get that, right?"

Her eyes flickered to him, and her eyebrows raised. "As opposed to being in the army, you mean?"

"That's different, Ali, and you know it." he told her. "I have people watching my back over there. Who's watching yours?"

Alison simply shrugged, she didn't look even remotely concerned by what he was saying. "I'm good at what I do, Dean."

"Hey, I'm not saying that you're not. Hell, I've seen what you can do, I know I couldn't do it, and I can't think of anyone else that could." He sighed heavily, he didn't know how to get through to her. "But, come on, how long do you think you're gonna be able to keep this up? Mom and dad aren't going to buy you going to those college weekends forever, Ali. Sooner or later they're gonna work out that you're sneaking around, and then what? They aren't gonna want you doing this. How would you even begin explaining this to them?"

She thought on his words for a moment and gave another shrug. "I don't know." she admitted. "I guess, I haven't thought that far ahead yet. Just, _please_ , don't tell them."

"Ali," He shook his head, remorseful. He didn't know how to talk her around, whatever she said, she'd sink him, she always did. "If I thought you were safe, you know that I wouldn't." Honestly, he didn't know what to do. He couldn't tell them, he couldn't be the one to turn her in, but he knew he couldn't leave her to continue. If anything happened, how would he ever forgive himself? All of it would be on him, and he couldn't take that. He couldn't live his life knowing that any day could be the day things went wrong for her. "You can't keep doing this, kiddo. What you're doing, it isn't safe, and it isn't fair."

"Isn't fair?" she challenged, defensive. "Which part of this isn't fair?"

"You think I can go back there knowing you're doing this?" he pushed. "You think I can go back knowing that any day could be the day you finally get caught up in that job? I can't go back there and just ignore the fact you're in that much danger every single day, Alison. Think about that for a second, please."

But Alison was silent. For a moment he thought she really was thinking on his words, and he dared to hope that he was getting somewhere, but she looked up to him with tears shining in her eyes. Alison never cried, _ever_ , especially not in a place as busy as that. "Did you really just say that to me?" she asked him, as though betrayed. "I don't believe you."

He frowned, confused. "Wha—"

But Alison was already gone. Before he could even finish, and he was pretty sure before she could burst into tears, she rose from where she sat and headed straight out of the bar, refusing to look back at him. He sighed, shaking his head to himself, he wasn't even sure what he had said to upset her so much. He finished the last of his beer and headed out in the same direction she had gone a moment ago.

As he stepped out into the cool night air he looked around slowly, she really was gone. He pulled a hand down his face and thought, the only place she could have gone in that town was the motel. He contemplated giving her space, because a part of him knew that was what she wanted. She was upset, and he knew it would only make it worse for him to see her like that. The smarter thing to do would be to let her calm down before he tried to talk to her, he knew that, but, at the same time, he couldn't leave his sister to cry alone. He never had been able to. And, with that thought in mind, he headed off in the direction of their motel room.

* * *

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 02:09AM._

The door opened behind Alison, and she closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. She wiped the tears from her face and turned slowly to face her brother. He stood in the doorway, apprehensive, an apologetic look on his face. But, he realised, she didn't look upset, she looked angry. In fact, she looked downright pissed at him. And he didn't know why.

"Alison—" he tried, but he didn't get the chance.

"You're a real jerk, you know that?" she spoke over him before he had the chance to say anything. "You can't go back knowing that any day could be the day I finally get caught up in the job? You can't take knowing I'm in that much danger every single day? How the _hell_ do you think I feel, Dean?!" she snapped, her voice raised. "How the hell do you think I feel sitting at home _every_ day wondering whether it's going to be the day we get the call to say something happened to you? Huh? How do you think it feels to sit at home watching the news, seeing what's happening over there, seeing how many people get _killed_ over there? How the hell do you think that feels? You do _not_ get the right to play that against me to stop me doing this. I live that fear _every single day_ of my life, Dean. Don't you _dare_ think otherwise."

Dean blinked, hard. And then blinked again, completely taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, at a loss for words. "Ali, I—"

"What you do is _dangerous_ , Dean, and, no matter how many times I try to believe that you meant what you said that day, that goodbye doesn't mean forever, there's _always_ this part of me that doesn't. There's always a part of me that's waiting for that phone call, or that knock on the door. And I am proud of you, please don't get me wrong, I am, but a part of me is _terrified_ of what you do." He simply stood there, he didn't know how to answer. She took a short breath, throwing up her arms in defeat. Her face softened, and she seemed to calm. "You go out there and you risk your life trying to make this world a safer place. That's all I'm trying to do here. I'm trying to help people, _save people_ , the same as you are."

"Ali—"

"Dean—"

" _No_." He stopped her before she could say anything more. He couldn't let her do it anymore. He had to put a stop to it. And he wasn't about to let her talk him around. In a way, her life could depend upon it, and that was all that concerned him at that point. "What happens to you when something goes wrong, huh? What happens when you sneak off on one of these college weekends and something happens to you? What happens when you don't come home? When you tell mom and dad you're in California and really you're on the other side of the country hunting down a monster, then what? Who's gonna help you then?"

Alison shook her head, but he noticed she didn't look at him. "Nothing is going to happen to me, Dean." she stated simply, but even she didn't sound convinced anymore.

"You don't know that." he countered. "If something happened, if something went wrong, no one would know, Alison. No one would know where you really are, what you've been doing, and that's it. You're just gone. Think about mom, and dad, and Sammy. It would kill them, you know it would."

Slowly, she raised her eyes to find his, and they almost pleaded with her to understand. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying it's time to stop." he told her, stern. He didn't like to do it, but he knew that he had to. "Quit this while you're ahead. Tell mom and dad you've changed your mind on going to college, they never need to know about it, you know I won't say anything, but, please, Alison, _please_ , stop. Before it's too late."

"It's already too late, Dean." she said softly, remorseful. "You just don't understand."

"Then help me understand." he pleaded.

Alison ran a hand down her face, and he could see her trying to hold back her tears. "You think this doesn't scare me, it does. I _know_ it's dangerous, Dean, I know that. I'm not naive, I'm not an idiot, I know how this could end." He frowned, confused. "Believe it or not, there aren't that many people out there stupid enough to do what I've been doing. So, you tell me, what happens when I stop? When I don't take that next hunt, those people die. The next hunt I don't take, those people don't get saved, that monster doesn't get stopped, and I have to live with that."

Dean watched her closely for a moment, he hadn't even thought of it like that. In a way, he understood. No matter what he said, she didn't want to stop, she wouldn't stop. She saw the danger, she knew the consequences, she had done all along. It wasn't the fearless, blind adrenaline run he thought it was. Alison was in too deep, and she didn't know how to get herself out. She was afraid, he could see it in her eyes, he could hear it in her voice, she was struggling, and he didn't know how to help her. He couldn't force her to listen to him. Sooner or later he was going to have to go back, and she was going to be on her own. What was he supposed to do?

"Alison—"

"Can we not?" she asked. "Can we just not talk about this right now? Please?" Dean looked torn. "I know we're not done with this, but, I feel like all we've done since you came home is fight. I can't take another one. Please, can we leave it, just for tonight?"

He contemplated her words, and reluctantly nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, you're right." They weren't going to get anywhere shouting at each other, that much he did know. The truth was, he missed his sister, he had spent so much time missing her, he missed spending time with her, he missed them being the way they had been all their lives. He didn't want to fight with her, not then, not ever. "What about I go and pick up some beers and we watch a movie or something? No ghosts, no army, just us."

She looked up to him with a slight smile and nodded. "Sure. Sounds good."

He turned towards the door, but she took a step forwards and grabbed his sleeve before he could go anywhere. "I'm sorry." He turned with a frown. "For all of it, I'm sorry."

Dean nodded. A slight smile graced his face, and he leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of her head. "Me, too." he said, sincere. "So, the big question, vodka or tequila?"

* * *

 _Wilmington, Ohio — Motel Room — 09:41AM._

It was the morning after the night before, and Alison woke up with a sore head and the familiar feeling of impending sickness in her chest. She rolled over onto her back with a groan and held her hands to her pounding forehead, as though she could will the pain away. Her eyes squeezed closed, and she willed herself back to sleep, sighing, she was far too awake for that now. There was no chance. Hesitant, she pushed herself into a sitting position, and she immediately regretted it. Her body ached, her vision was blurred, and the room was undeniably spinning. It was a harsh reminder of why she had stopped trying to drink with her elder brother, she had never been able to keep up. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the empty cans and bottles that seemed to cover it. She glanced over towards the other bed, Dean was still sound asleep. She shook her head to herself, a little envious, and reluctantly climbed from beneath the covers. It wasn't going to be a good day.

Slowly, Alison managed to drag her feet towards the bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the large mirror and she contemplated whether she really was going throw up. Turning on the cold faucet, she splashed water over her face in some attempt to numb the pain. She poured herself a glass of water with nothing on her mind but taking a couple of painkillers to halt the throbbing against her skull. But it was as she stepped out of the bathroom that the glass slipped between her fingers, and it smashed hard against the floor at her feet.

The sound of it made her jump. And it seemed to make her brother jump, too, as he shot up in bed, so similar to the way he had done before. She noted the thin sheen of sweat at his brow, how alert he suddenly seemed to be, and it only took one look at him for her to know that he hadn't woken from a peaceful dream. Normally, she would have said nothing, but it wasn't the first time it had happened. How long could she ignore it for?

Dean blinked, hard, taking in the scene before him. And, at that point, he wasn't sure which one of them looked more startled. His sister stared at him from where she remained half crouched to the floor, as if frozen there, and didn't move an inch.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, a little abrupt. It came out harsher than he had intended, and he immediately regretted it.

Alison opened and closed her mouth, as if struggling for words. "Are you alright?" she asked, tentative, clearly taken aback by his tone.

"What?" He struggled to compose himself, and he sat up a little straighter in bed, pulling a hand roughly down his face. "I'm fine."

Her eyebrows raised, dubious. "Really?"

"I'm fine, Ali." he snapped, and his tone gave away that it wasn't something he wanted to discuss.

Hesitant, she nodded, and she cleared her throat, somewhat awkwardly. "Okay." she muttered. She looked back to the glass on the floor, and, without a word, she began to pick up some of the larger pieces, never looking up at him.

Dean sighed, shaking his head at himself, and climbed from the bed. "Ali, I'm sorry."

"It's fine." she mumbled. He watched her for a moment as she tossed the broken pieces of glass in her hand to the trash and stepped over the rest, obviously intending to finish it later. She walked past him, eyes fixed to the floor, and turned. She had to ask. She knew he didn't want her to, but she had to. "Does that happen a lot?" she pressed. "The nightmares?"

Dean turned to face her, somewhat accusing, and raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't a free pass to talk about it."

"We're not talking about it." she countered. "I asked you a question. It's a simple, yes or no, question."

"It wasn't a nightmare." he told her bluntly, but they both knew that was a lie. And she knew that his attitude was nothing more than him being pissed that she had caught him out on it. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry."

"Dean, come on," she pressed. "After that speech you gave me before we came here about us being close, about keeping secrets, what is it?"

"Nothing." he retorted, his temper clearly short. "It's just, I don't know," He sighed, defeated. He wasn't going to lie to her. What was the point? She was right, they were closer than that. "It's hard to explain."

Dean looked on at her for a long moment, and he could see the concern shining in her green eyes, fixed solely on him. She had seen it twice now, maybe more for all he knew. She was worried, she was scared, and there was only one thing on her mind at that point, she was afraid that he had seen something horrible, or that something horrible had happened to him. But he couldn't talk to her about his time away, and a part of her understood that, he could see it in her face. He could read her like a book, but she could read him, too. And she knew when it was time to take a step back.

"Look, I'm sorry." She offered an apologetic smile. "You don't have to tell me anything. Just, are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright." he assured, his tone softer. "You just, you see things, you know? Things that are hard to let go of. I can't make you understand."

And then something hit him, like a punch to the face. Just two days earlier she had said the exact same thing to him. She had told him there was something she couldn't make him understand, and yet, there he was. He had seen it with her, he had been through it with her, and he understood something he never thought he would. Alison had shared something she never thought she could. Maybe, if there was anybody in that world with him who he could make understand, it was her. He knew it was her. It always was.

But it was more than that. Did he want her to know? Could he really sit there and tell her everything? Was she the one he wanted to unload everything on? Because, he knew, nothing would ever be the same between them again. Until the previous night, he had never realised just how much she had struggled with him being away, with him doing what he did. He had never known how much it had truly scared her when he had left. And telling her the truth was only going to make things worse. Could he really do that to her?

As though she could see the thoughts swimming uncontrollability around his mind, Alison took a seat on the edge of one of the beds, looking up at him patiently. He glanced down, and their eyes met. He knew he had to talk about it eventually, he just hadn't known how. He couldn't carry it around with him forever. He needed to talk about it. He needed someone to understand how he felt. And she was more than willing to do that. She always had been.

With a sigh, Dean dropped down to sit on the other bed, facing her. His eyes were fixed to the old carpet between their feet, and she could see him struggling to find the words to begin. "There was a guy. Danny." he said, his voice was soft, distant, and his mind was clearly anywhere but in that motel. "He, uh, he shared our room over there. Same age as me, you know? Nice guy. It was his first tour, too. We got pretty close, in the end he was kinda like a brother to me. He reminded me a lot of Sam. He had a little sister, Kate, year younger than you are, he missed her like hell, talked about her all the time." There was a soft smile on his face, but she didn't miss the sadness that shone in his eyes. "And, just for the record, I'm not the only guy who ever put a kid in hospital for looking at his sister the wrong way."

Alison huffed a laugh, smiling to herself. "So, what happened?" she asked, a little cautious, because she knew it wasn't going to be good.

"We were out on day, and, uh," He paused for a moment, shaking his head slowly. "I got shot."

Her eyes widened. "You what?!"

Dean flinched at her reaction. It had been the exact reason he hadn't wanted to tell her anything. He chanced looking up at her, and, no surprise to him, she looked horrified. "Yeah," He cleared his throat. "I got shot." Almost reluctant, he pulled up the bottom of his sweatpants to show her the scar on the side of his calve, still red, still noticeable, and offered a shrug. It wasn't bad, but it was enough.

"Dean," Alison looked to him, her eyes pleading for some kind of an explanation. He barely even recognised the look on her face. If she had been afraid of what he did before, he hated to think what was going through her head now. Telling her that was going to change everything, and a part of him regretted even opening his mouth. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"And what would you have done, huh?" he challenged. "How was I supposed to tell you that? Where I was," He stopped, running a hand through his hair, he couldn't even think about it. "I couldn't tell you something like that over the phone, not a chance. I know you, Ali, you would've freaked. Mom would've freaked. Truth is, I didn't want you to know, that's why I asked them not to call home." She looked up at him, and for a second he could've sworn she looked offended, even betrayed. "You were already scared, kid. I could hear it in your voice every time you called. I couldn't tell you."

Alison said nothing for a few seconds, and he could see her trying to process it all. She wasn't sure she wanted to know anything else, but she had to, she knew that. "How did it happen?"

Dean shrugged. "It just...happened." he muttered. "Came out of nowhere. Danny came back for me, I was alright, but, he pulled me up, said we had to go, we turned around and..." He paused, shaking his head to himself. "And he got shot, in the neck."

Alison remained silent for a minute, he didn't look up at her, he wasn't sure that he could. His eyes remained focused on the floor, as though he didn't dare to look anywhere else. He heard her stand from where she was sitting in front of him, and he felt the bed dip beside him slightly as she sat down again. "I'm so sorry, Dean." she said softly. Her hand rested gently to the middle of his back, and he could tell that she was lost for words.

It was only when he finally looked up at her again that she realised just how much it hurt. There were tears shining in his eyes, threatening to fall, and the pain she saw in them was nothing she had ever seen before in her brother. A part of her knew it ran deeper than what he was telling her, that it was probably so much worse than he had told her, but, truthfully, she had never wanted to accept that. "I tried, Ali. I tried to help him, I did, but...he didn't make it." He cleared his throat, composing himself a little. "You know, there was just this moment, he looked up at me and I knew...I knew I couldn't help him, he knew it, we all did. By the time we'd dragged him back to the truck he was dead. You know, I think about his kid sister every single day. I think, you know, maybe if I'd have turned around a second earlier I wouldn't have been hit, and he wouldn't have come back for me, and he'd still be alive."

"Dean—" He heard her voice falter the slightest bit, and, as he looked up at her, he saw the tears in her eyes as she listened to him. She stood from the bed and took a step away from him, shaking her head. She turned, a hand pressed to her mouth, and all of a sudden she seemed to look so horrified, guilty, even, holding the tears back with everything she had in her. For a moment he considered whether it was just her, and the compassion and empathy she had, but somehow it seemed much more than that. "Dean, I'm so sorry."

He frowned a little, taken aback by the look on her face. He didn't understand. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"You came home from that, and I have you doing this?" She looked so sorry, so ashamed, so disappointed in herself. "Oh my god, Dean, I've made your life hell since you came back here. I—"

"Hey." Dean stopped her before she could say anything more. He shook his head and stood to face her, a slight smile on his face. "Look, as weird as this is, and as crazy as all of this was, I've actually had a pretty good weekend." he said, his words were genuine, sincere, and he truly meant them. "We always said when I came home we'd take a road trip, do something crazy, right?"

"Yeah," Alison scoffed. "Like Disney Land, not ghost hunting."

Dean chuckled. "Well, I guess this can be our Disney Land." He smiled down at her, resting a hand to one of her shoulders. "Look, I mean it, Ali, it's been good to finally spend some time with you again. And, I know we don't do a whole lot of the feelings thing, but I really did miss you. You make everything better, kiddo."

Alison stepped towards him, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "I missed you, too, Dean."


	11. My Brother The Sister

_Thank you to everyone for reading the last chapter, and a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, and those of you who sent me a PM, I love to hear from you guys! Suggestions and opinions are ALWAYS welcome!:-)))_

 _This chapter is a little shorter than usual, it's really just a Dean/Alison filler chapter, but I've been super busy and I really wanted to get something up for you guys!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Eleven: My Brother The Sister**

 _Lawrence, Kansas —_ _Alison's Bedroom_ _—_ _10:43AM_

Alison tilted her head slightly to the side as she applied power to her left cheek. She placed that and the brush down to the dresser with a soft sigh and returned her attention to the mirror before her. At times, she felt like she spent more time hiding bruises than anything else, it was one of the downsides to her extra curricular activities, and her most recent trip with her brother had left her with more to cover than before. It was a small bruise, almost completely faded, and she was more than thankful for that, because she was dreading the day that one of her parents noticed. It was a conversation she didn't want to have any time soon.

"Ali, Ali, Ali." A deep voice sounded from behind her, and Alison smiled to herself.

"Dean." She glanced at his reflection through the mirror and quirked an eyebrow at him. He leaned casually against her open door frame, arms folded over his chest, and a look on his face that she just knew meant he was about to ask her something. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Dean looked over her slowly, and his eyes fell to the bag of make up open on the dresser in front of her. He scanned the many products there and frowned. "You're going for coffee, right?" he asked, bewildered, and she shrugged, as if to ask what the problem was. " _Why_ do you need to wear all that crap just to get coffee?"

Alison simply offered him another shrug. "Time on my hands." she quipped.

Shaking his head at her, and a fond smile on his face, he stepped into her room and closed the door softly behind himself, and that was when she was sure he was about to ask her something. He only closed the door when he was going to say something that he didn't want anyone else to overhear, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was going to be. If it was another talk about her hunting, she couldn't take it. He took a seat on the end of her bed, behind where she sat at her dresser, her back to him, and watched through the mirror as she continued to apply her make up. "Are you colouring on your eyebrows?" he asked her, eyes narrowed, more than curious. "Why the hell do you need to colour on your eyebrows? You already have eyebrows. What's the point? I don't get you."

Alison sighed, pushing back a smile. "Did you want something, or are you simply here for the beauty tips?" She turned on her chair, face completely serious. "Have you been watching Oprah again? You know I love her tips."

Dean rolled his eyes at her. "Very funny." he muttered. "Actually, I was thinking, you wanna do something this weekend?"

"Something?" She turned back to face the mirror, and smirked, intrigued. There was a look on his face that she knew meant he already had something in mind, and the best weekends they had came from the conversations that required a closed door. "Something like what?"

Dean shrugged, nonchalant. "Something like Disney Land." he stated, and if he hadn't said it so clearly, so seriously, she would have been sure that she had heard him wrong.

"Disney Land?" Her eyes narrowed, as if in suspicion, at him. "That our code word now?"

He chuckled, nodding. "I guess it is."

"You wanna go to Disney Land?" she pressed, dubious. "What happened to it being dangerous?" He opened his mouth to argue, but she didn't give him the chance. "What happened to that speech you gave me back in Ohio about how I shouldn't be doing it? About how I was more than likely going to get myself killed? Or the speech you gave me on the way home from Ohio? Or the one you gave me while we waited for pizza when we got home? Or the one I got after breakfast the next morning? Or the one I got through the bathroom door while I brushed my teeth? Or—"

" _Okay_. I get it, Ali." He stopped her, holding up a hand before she could continue, because he knew she could probably go on naming his speeches for a while. "I nagged you, I'm sorry." He smiled a little. "Look, I know what I said, over and over, but I've been thinking, are you honestly telling me that you aren't going to do it anyway?" He threw her a look, one which said he knew her better. "And, besides, it's hardly dangerous when you've got me there, is it? I only said that I didn't like you doing it alone, you won't be alone. What are the chances both of us get murdered?"

Alison pulled a face at him through the mirror. "Grim. But, true." She shrugged, indifferent. "But I think, while you're playing the big tough guy, you're forgetting that it's me that actually knows what they're doing. Face it, bro, you wouldn't know where to start."

"Fine, I admit that you're the brains." he agreed, defensive. "But I'm the muscle, so you're good." She rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she began to return all the make up she had used to the bag. "What was that?" he pressed, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing." she told him bluntly. "I just said I'd look into it. I'll let you know if I find anything, you know...any good roller coasters."

Dean frowned at her, confused. "Roller coasters? What the hell are you talking about?"

" _Monsters_ , Dean." she deadpanned. "Any good monsters. Don't start a code if you're not gonna stick to it."

"If you were any kind of _normal_ sister we wouldn't have to talk in code, Alison." he remarked, smug. "You think about that."

"Whatever." she muttered. "Anyway, I gotta go." She rose from her seat, reaching for her bag, but Dean held up a hand to stop her, an amused smirk on his face as he looked up.

"You only doing one eye, or...?" Alison frowned at him, for a moment confused, and she glanced back towards the mirror, realizing that she had only put the make up on one of her eyes, too caught up in talking to her brother to have remembered to finish. She threw him a pointed look and dropped back down to the chair. "What's with the death glare? I could totally have let you walk out of the house like that."

"Yes, you could." she agreed. "You're a good brother."

"Thank you." he commented. "You're an okay sister."

Dean continued to watch as she pulled out some make up and began working on her other eye. "So, where are you going anyway?" she asked, curious. "You got big plans?"

He scoffed. "Hardly big. I'm going to the game with Nick."

"Nick." she repeated, more of a comment to herself than to him, but he didn't miss it.

"Yeah, why?" he questioned, lost. "You wanna come?"

"Uh, no." She chuckled. "Not really."

"Why not?" Dean frowned at her, and she leaned closer to the mirror. Whether it was to concentrate on what she was doing or to ensure that he couldn't see her face, he wasn't sure, but there was definitely something about her tone that was off. "Come on, we haven't been to a game in ages. Besides, I thought you liked Nick? Didn't you used to have a crush on him?" But Alison didn't reply, she was silent, giving nothing more than a shrug in response. "What?" he pressed. "What is it?"

"Nothing." she muttered, as though it didn't concern her. Her voice was calm, casual, but she had already given herself away. She was never that quiet, about anything, not unless it was something she didn't want to talk about.

And then it clicked. "Oh, god, Alison." He shook his head. "Did something happen while I was gone? Were you seeing him?" His tone grew darker, lower. "What did he do?"

"He didn't do anything." she told him, giving a laugh. "Tone it down, _Rambo_. We tried it, didn't work out, we're cool. Don't sweat it."

"And why the hell didn't you tell me?" he asked her, and she could've laughed at how offended he sounded. "You and Nick. I feel sick. _Ew_ , Alison."

"Ew?" she repeated, frowning. "Why is that ew? He's been your BFF since like kindergarten."

"Yeah, and then he tried to bang my sister while I was out of the country being shot!" he snapped, and it was as if he was wondering why she wasn't as outraged as he seemed to be.

With a roll of her eyes, she stood from her chair, standing over him. "You're doing it again." she commented, stern, amused.

His eyes narrowed. "Doing what again?"

Alison shoved him in the shoulder and smirked. "You're being an overprotective jerk." she quipped, passing him towards her wardrobe.

"Hey, I am not overprotective." he countered, defensive. "I just care about you, and your fake eyebrows."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate your unnecessary concern." she said, sarcastic. She pulled out two jackets and held up the hangers to him. "Denim or leather?"

Dean thought on it for a moment, and he pointed to the one in her left hand. "Leather."

Alison nodded and grabbed her bag from the bed, placing the jacket over her arm. "So, do I meet your standards, or?"

Dean smiled at her, nodding. "You look great." he said, sincere. "I still don't know why you need to paint your face to get coffee, but," He shrugged. "It works."

Alison chuckled. "You totally should've been my sister." she quipped, and the only response he gave her was a shove in the back of the shoulder as he followed her from her room. "I'll see you later."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "See you later, sis."

* * *

 _Lawrence, Kansas —_ _Home_ _—_ _04:51PM_

Alison sighed as she shoved a few pieces of paper into her bag as she closed the front door of her house closed behind herself. The last thing she wanted to do was walk into the kitchen with a handful of news articles detailing gruesome murders in front of her parents. That would start a long list of unwanted questions. A smile came to her face as she headed into the kitchen, the way it always seemed to. Her dad looked up from where he sat at the counter and nodded. "Hey, honey." he greeted.

Her mother stood opposite him at the counter, cutting up vegetables for dinner. She looked up and smiled brightly. "Hi sweetheart. How's Chloe?"

"Hey." Alison dropped her bag down and moved to sit beside her dad. "Uh, yeah, Chloe's good. You need any help with dinner?"

Mary shook her head. "I'm almost done." she said. "You know, you should invite her round for dinner one night, we haven't seen her for a while."

Alison looked away, nodding. "Uh, yeah, I'll talk to her." she muttered. There was a reason the girl who had once practically lived in their house hadn't been round for a while. There was a reason that she hadn't invited any of her friends round. It was purely because she knew her mother would ask them about their college trips, simply out of making conversation, and that would open the door on all of her lies. She couldn't risk it.

Not seeming to think anything of it, Mary nodded in agreement. "Do you know what time your brother's coming home?"

"Uh, no." She shook her head. "He didn't say. Probably not late."

Alison glanced down as her phone rang from the table, and she looked down at it to find a text message from Dean. Speak of the devil.

 _'Sister. Find any good 'roller coasters' yet?'_

Alison smirked to herself. ' _Ha_. _Looks like a vamp case up in Oregon, possible Wendigo in Colorado, maybe a werewolf up in Cali. Take your pick.'_

 _'I'll bite, what the hell is a Wendigo?'_

 _'Creature. Lives in the woods, strings people up for a while before it snacks on them. Basically.'_

 _'Woods, huh? So, camping trip?'_

 _'You wanna go camping?'_

 _'Hell yeah I wanna go camping'_

 _'Alright, Wendigo it is. What are we gonna tell mom?'_

 _'We'll tell her we're going camping, not exactly like we're lying is it?'_

 _'Guess not. Btw, tell Nick I said hi;-)'_

 _'Don't even push me on that, Alison. Thin ice. I'll see you at home.'_

Mary glanced up as her phone rang once again in her hands, and she didn't miss the smile on her daughter's face as she text whoever it was back, her thumbs moving in a rapid pace as she replied. Half of the time she was so used to hearing her phone sound, and for her to do nothing more than glance at it and return it to her pocket. She shared a look with John, who was frowning at the phone over her shoulder, clearly intrigued. "Who keeps texting you?" she asked, curious.

Alison quickly snapped out of the moment, and she straightened her face, biting back the urge to laugh. "Uh, it's just Dean." she answered, nonchalant, as she placed the phone back to the counter before her. "We were thinking of going away for the weekend. Is that okay?"

"Really?" John raised his eyebrows. "Where are you going?"

"Uh, camping, actually." It even sounded unbelievable coming out of her own mouth.

"Camping?" Her dad laughed, really laughed, as though he had assumed it to be some kind of a joke. For a moment he looked a little confused, as if to ask why no one else was laughing along with him, and his eyebrows creased to a frown, bemused. "You two? Really?" He chuckled. "I'd pay good money to watch that."

Mary threw him a look. "Well, I think it's great you're finally spending some time together, especially after you were both gone all last weekend. I know you must have missed each other." She smiled brightly, and Alison did anything to avoid her gaze. If only she knew. "Of course, go, have fun."

Alison smiled. "Yeah, I'm sure we will."


	12. The Camping Trip

_Thank you so much to everyone for reading the last chapter, and a special thank you to those of you who reviewed, your support means the world!_

 _Hope you like this chapter!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twelve: The Camping Trip**

 _Colorado — 10:01PM_

The flames of the fire burned harshly into Dean's green eyes, red and golden and blazing against their dark background, and he could feel the heat of it against his face. The tiny sparks flew from it and danced in the dark night air, filled with the smell of smoke, flickering and falling until they dissipated into nothing. The sky above was a deep pink colour, and a deeper purple was slowly creeping in as the daylight slipped far away. Everything suddenly seemed so calm around him, so peaceful, in a way that he hadn't anticipated. The sound of birds had long since faded and the only thing left to listen to was the crackling of the wood as it burned away. The sun had fallen somewhere behind the clouds, and its warmth had gone with it. It's heat was replaced by a cooler, yet not unpleasant, breeze, and, as the light faded away, the trees above seemed to grow larger and deeper around them, as if closing them in.

Yet, in that moment, something struck him as strange. There was something so different between that moment and the last time he and his sister had been sitting like that. The last time they had sat beside each other and watched a fire burn before their eyes they had both been banged up, they had been shaken, and they had been watching the final remains of a body burn away into nothing. This time was so different. This time they sat there, side by side, leaning against a large, fallen down tree behind them, with a beer in one hand and a content smile on their faces. It was almost as though there was nothing but peace in those woods.

It was a comfortable silence, one that had gone on for a few minutes, and he couldn't quite remember what they had been talking about before. It didn't matter. He glanced down at the bottle in his left hand, noting that it was already half empty, and gave a thoughtful sigh. "Should we really be drinking with a monster wandering around the woods?" he asked, his voice calm, as though it had simply been said out of curiosity.

Alison shrugged, unconcerned, and she took a drink of her own beer as if to make a point. "Probably not." she said simply. "I'm assuming, given your career choice, you've got a pretty good aim?"

The question took him by surprise. His career choice was something that hadn't been mentioned since Ohio. After their last conversation about it, it was something that he never wanted to bring up with his sister again. Her words had stuck with him, when she had finally confessed to her fear, when she had spelled out to him how much of an impact it really did have on her, he had felt nothing but guilt. He had never thought much about it. And he certainly hadn't realized how hard she had taken him leaving. Telling her what had happened to him while he had been away had only seemed to spur her worry further, and it was a conversation he hadn't wanted to relive before he had to.

Dean chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "Not so great after six beers." he commented dryly.

Alison scoffed, nodding, something of an amused look on her face. " _Awesome_."

Dean huffed. "Alright, smart ass, who taught you to shoot, anyway?" he accused.

It was something that had pressed on his mind at the time of their last hunt, but, during the rush of the adrenaline, through all of the chaos and commotion, it was something that had been pushed to the back of his mind. He had never questioned her on it, yet a part of him knew that he should have done. Her aim had been perfect the first time he had seen her take a shot, and it had been clear that firing a gun wasn't something new to her. He wanted to know where she had learned to do it. Or, more specifically, who had taught her to do it.

"Me, actually." she told him, and he noted the pride in her own voice. "I practised."

Dean quirked a brow. "Bottles on a wall?" he mocked.

"Your face on a dartboard, actually." she countered.

Dean rolled his eyes, a knowing smile on his face. "Funny." he muttered, taking another drink of his beer. He shook his head, the whole thing was still so new to him, and he wasn't sure he had truly wrapped his head around what they were doing yet. It seemed so hard to imagine her wandering around the woods alone with a gun at night looking for monsters. He couldn't imagine her digging up a grave alone, talking to relatives of people who had died while pretending to be part of the law enforcement, taking tours of crime scenes, it just didn't seem real. It was like she lived a whole other life outside of the one he knew so well. The sister he had returned home to could have been a character from one of the million horror movies they had watched together. "I can't believe you do this alone. I mean, don't you get bored?"

Alison chuckled. "Well, I don't usually make a trip out of it." she stated, but he looked confused. "I mean, if you weren't with me I wouldn't be sat around a camp fire drinking beer and roasting marshmallows. When it's just me I don't stop to eat in a diner like we did, I don't stop to see the sights or wander around town." She looked down for a moment. "I don't do any of that when I'm on my own. When it's just me, it's just hunting."

Dean looked down at her, his brow furrowed. "So, what?" he pressed. "You breeze into town, kill the monster and then just leave?"

"Yeah," She nodded slowly, her eyes remaining fixed to the bottle in her hands. "Pretty much."

His eyebrows raised. "And, remind me, _why_ , exactly, does that appeal to you?"

Alison looked up at him, giving a pointed shrug, as if to tell him she didn't know what he expected her to say. They had been over it and over it, she thought they were done having the same conversations. It was something she didn't like to answer should she have the choice. "Some people collect stamps, some people scrapbook, some people kill monsters." she said, her voice soft, calm. "What more do you want?"

Dean frowned at that. "So, you're saying this is all just a hobby?" he pushed, not completely sure he bought that from her. "That's some hobby, kid."

Her head tilted back, and she looked up at him. "There are worse ones."

Dean scoffed, dubious. "Name one." he challenged.

Alison regarded him for a moment, thinking over her answer carefully. "I could be taking cocaine right now. Think about that." He threw her a look, somewhere between amusement and disbelief. "I could spend all weekend drinking beer at college parties, pretending like I actually care about my education."

"Which, I'll remind you, is what you're _supposed_ to be doing while you're taking these little trips." he cut in.

"I could sleep around." she stated bluntly, so bluntly that he was sure for a second he had heard her wrong. "I mean, wasn't that _your_ hobby at my age?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth, seeming lost for words. His eyes narrowed at her, and the smile on her face told him that she knew she had won. "Good point. You stick with the monster hunting." He gave a laugh at just the thought of it, because it still sounded so strange to say it out loud. The thought of monsters being real still seemed so crazy to him, and yet, as he sat there, it seemed the most normal thing in the world. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Hey." She held up a hand to stop him, defensive. "This was your idea. I was totally game for a movie and take out this weekend."

"Oh, well, forgive me for taking an interest in your hobbies." he retorted, sarcastic. "You know, a lot of brothers don't even talk to their sisters outside of the house."

Alison laughed at that. "Yeah, but a lot of brothers don't have me for a sister." she quipped. "You got lucky, dude."

"Yeah," Dean huffed. "If I'd gotten so lucky I don't think I'd have spent most of today wandering around the woods looking for a monster." he countered. "Do you?"

Alison thought on his words for a moment, seeming to contemplate them seriously, and he could almost see the thoughts circling in her mind. "So, you're saying, if you could choose between a nice, normal sister who you didn't talk to outside of the house and me, your badass monster hunting sister, you wouldn't pick me?" she challenged. "Yeah, right."

Dean laughed. "You know, most guys go out and have a beer with their friends at the weekend. Everyone I know, that's what's normal. The sisters take their gang of girlfriends and go to the mall, the brothers and their buddies go watch the game and have a beer." He glanced down at her and gave a soft smile. "And then there's us."

"Yeah," She nodded in agreement, a thoughtful frown on her face. It was true, that was the way it had always seemed to be, even through high school. They would cut classes together, they would hang out together after school, they would spend most of their weekends together, and it had been like that up until the day he had gone away. She had never really thought too much about it, but, looking back, they had spent more of their teenage years with each other than with anyone else. "I guess it's always kinda been that way, hasn't it? Hard to imagine us not being like that."

Dean smiled softly. He knew guys who barely spoke to their kid sisters outside of the holidays, who avoided them when they went home, who thought of them as nothing but interfering younger siblings. He knew girls who didn't get on with their brothers, who didn't talk much to them, he knew siblings who wouldn't even say hi should they walk past each other in the street. It was like a different world to what he had with his own siblings, and he couldn't imagine a day he saw Alison or Sam and didn't stop to talk to them. And then it seemed dawn on him, he hadn't spent so much time with his sister because she was his sister, they didn't hang out together because they were siblings, there was another reason he hadn't hesitated in following her up to Ohio, and there was a reason he had spent the day wandering around the woods looking for a monster with her. It had nothing to do with them being siblings.

"We could be that kind of family, you know." She looked up at him, confused. "The kind of brother and sister who don't talk to each other past breakfast." He shrugged. "But I picked an idiot for a best friend. Sister or not, there's no escaping that." He threw her a pointed look. "That's why I'm sat here."

Alison blinked, looking a little taken aback by the comment. "Wow. That's actually the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." He looked to her, eyebrows raised, an amused look on his face. "How fast are you drinking those beers?"

He shook his head slowly, not at all concerned. "I'm just saying, I think you're right. I think we got lucky."

She nodded, and a smile crossed her face, because she knew not every sister could look to their brother and find their best friend. "Yeah, we did."

* * *

 _Three Hours Later, 01:01AM._

Dean opened his eyes, a little groggy, at the sound of branches breaking somewhere in the distance. It was loud enough to pull him out of the slumber he couldn't even remember falling into. The fire before him had long since burned away into nothing more than a discoloured shape in the leaves, yet the smell of the smoke still seemed to linger. He glanced to his left and found his sister had also fallen asleep. Her head was rested against his arm, and she looked nothing but peaceful. Gently, he nudged her in the arm, stirring her. "Ali." he pressed, his voice remaining soft. "Wake up."

"Huh?" She shifted slightly, momentarily confused, and it took a second for her to remember where they were. She looked around slowly, eyes narrowed through the darkness. "Oh, fuck." she muttered, more to herself than to him.

Dean shifted slightly, stretching out the ache in his back, brought on by sitting where he had been for the past few hours, and raised his eyebrows slightly. "What's up?"

She gave a laugh, but she sounded anything but amused. "I think you were right about the beers, not a good idea."

But there was something more to her joke, and he could see it from a mile away. Something was wrong, and she was trying hard to ensure he didn't catch on. "What is it?" he pushed, a little uncomfortable, fast wondering whether he was supposed to be concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Hunting a Wendigo during the day? Bad idea." She scoffed. "Hunting one at night? No chance."

Dean regarded her for a moment, trying to work out the look on her face. "So, what are you saying?" he pressed. "Is this how we're gonna die?"

Alison shook her head slowly, and he could tell that she was at a loss. In that moment, she looked stumped, she didn't know what to do. "Time to move." she instructed, her voice was quiet, as if she was trying not to let someone else hear it. There was a new found determination behind her words, but, unbeknownst to her, he could hear the lack of confidence in her tone.

He watched curiously as she grabbed her bag, and she opened it quickly. She routed around in it for a short moment, and then pulled something out, holding it out to him expectantly. His eyebrows shot up. "And, what the hell is this?" he asked, almost accusing.

Alison smiled. "That, my dear brother, is a flare gun." she told him pointedly.

"And why, exactly, do I need a flare gun?" he pressed, curious. "What's wrong with a regular gun? Or your fancy rocksalt shotgun?"

"Because, bullets don't work on a Wendigo, and rocksalt would probably have it laughing in your face before it strings you up and eats you for dinner." she told him, somewhat smug. "We kill it with fire. Any more questions?"

Dean regarded her for a moment, a smile playing on his face. Whether he wanted to admit it to her or not, he found it all a little impressive. He took the gun from her, because who was he to argue? "Fair enough." he muttered, looking over the gun slowly. "Do I even wanna ask where you got these from?"

Alison opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it again. She shook her head at him. "Probably not, no. So, can we go?"

Dean held up his hand to stop her. "Just, level with me, Ali, do you actually have any idea what you're doing here?" Alison gave a half-hearted shrug, and he knew the smile on her face gave the answer away. His mouth twisted to a smile, and he shook his head. "You fill me with confidence, kiddo. You get us killed, you are so grounded for the rest of your life."

Alison chuckled. "You know dad would still blame you, right?"

He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, probably." he agreed. "You've got the man wrapped around your finger."

Before she could answer him, the sound of something brushing through the leaves somewhere behind them stopped them in their tracks. Dean looked at Alison, and Alison looked at Dean. Their eyes met for a moment, and he wasn't sure he could read her face. She appeared completely calm, as though nothing had happened. "Did you hear that?" he asked, suddenly alarmed.

Alison rolled her eyes at him. "Well, I'm standing right next to you, what do you think?" she countered.

"There's no need to be sarcastic." he muttered, looking around slowly. "What was it?"

Alison opened her mouth to answer, but something stopped her. There were sounds of branches snapping all around them, as though there was something circling them at an alarming speed. For all he knew, there probably was. He noticed his sister still seemed a lot less concerned about the whole thing than he was, as though she had done it all a million times before. But she had told him so herself, she had never hunted one of these things before. She had only read about them in books. Why wasn't she phased? She had no idea what to expect, she didn't know that what she had read was going to be true. And it was only now sinking in that, should what she thought she knew be wrong, there was a good chance that they were both going to die in those woods. It was only now that he was in the middle of it all that it seemed so real again. And he didn't know how his sister managed to do it all alone.

Alison was the girl who screamed at the top of her lungs for him if there was a tiny spider in the bathtub, she was the kind of girl who wouldn't walk three blocks alone at night, she was someone who jumped when someone sneaked up behind her, he couldn't understand where this new found confidence had come from. When had the little sister he had said goodbye to that day become the fearless, monster killing heroine that stood in front of him.

"Come on," she instructed, her voice low, as she flipped the safety off of the gun she held. "Let's keep going."

Dean sighed lightly and nodded, following her move and heading deeper into the woods with her. To what, he wasn't sure.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps further into the deep trees when they heard the sound again, this time louder, closer, and it stopped both of them in their tracks. They looked between each other, and Dean noticed that this time she did look a little less than calm. The was the sound of branches breaking behind them, although this time they sounded higher up, as though there was something between the leaves of the trees. Alison's eyes scanned the darkness slowly, narrowed, cautious, and he noticed how her face suddenly changed. They were in over their heads, and she knew it. He followed her eyes, but he saw nothing, and he frowned.

"Dean." she pressed, hesitant, almost a whisper.

He glanced back to her, concerned. And it was only then that he realized everything around them had fallen quiet, almost too quiet. "Yeah?"

"I think it's time to run." she stated, her voice low, calm, so not to disturb the heavy silence that now surrounded them.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. If she said run, they were running. And that was exactly what they did. Without a second thought, they bolted through the trees, never looking back. They ducked branches and jumped over the thick roots of the trees, trying to get anywhere but where they were. It was tense, and the only sound in their ears was the wind and the breeze of the leaves as they shot past them at high speed.

There was a loud thud behind him, and, in that split second, Dean was sure that she had fallen. He turned around instantly, and his heart began thumping rapidly against his chest. His stomach dropped, and a sense of panic washed through him. Alison wasn't there. His eyes darted swiftly between the dense trees that surrounded him, she had been there just a moment ago, so where the hell was she?

"Ali?!" he called, but nothing came in response, only silence. "Alison?!" he repeated. "If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not laughing!"

But even she wasn't that screwed up. It wasn't her style, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't a joke. He paused, ears strained, desperate to hear something, _anything_ , to indicate where she was. His eyes fell to the ground, and to where her bag lay there, abandoned in the dirt, and he crouched down to pick it up. His eyes fell to something else, and that was when the panic truly washed through him. There were marks in the dirt, eight marks, as if someone had tried to clutch to the soil with their finger tips as they were dragged away into the darkness. He stood again, looking around one last time. There were tears in his eyes, a tightness in his chest, and his hands wrapped in his hair.

His sister was gone. And he didn't know how to find her.

" _Alison_?!"


	13. Panic

_Hi guys! Shorter chapter but I wanted to get something up for you as I haven't updated in a couple of weeks, everything has just been insane lately! I apologise;-)_

 _Hope you enjoy this chapter, and while I'm here let me just wish you all a happy and healthy new year! So thankful for all of your support, thank you for reading!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Thirteen: Panic**

 _Colorado - 01:22AM._

Dean's knees hit the ground, hard, and he felt the earth beneath them sink a little under his weight. He sat there for a long moment and simply stared down at the dirt, trying to process what was really happening. Until then it had seemed so easy, it was only now that he realised how truly dangerous what his sister had been doing was, and he knew he should have put a stop to it all when he'd had the chance. With Alison, it had seemed such a sure thing, so safe, so secure, because he had trusted that she was in control. But, she wasn't, and she never had been. He should have known that. It had been insane of him to think otherwise. There was no controlling the situation they were in, and he had fooled himself into believing there was.

His green eyes were fixated to the markings in the ground, and his fingertips traced the indents that had been left by his sister, he could almost picture her trying to cling to something as she was dragged away into the darkness. It was an image he hadn't wanted in his head. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to breathe, tried in vein to process a clear thought. And, in that moment, when all Dean needed was a pure, still minute to think, time seemed to speed up and the reality of it all crashed down around him.

Dean had to move, or Alison was going to die.

It suddenly dawned on him, she could be dead. She could be dying. And they were the only two people on that earth who knew that they were there, who knew what they were doing. This is what his concern was all about. Alison was so used to doing it all alone, so used to making it out alive to tell her story, she neglected to see the danger that was leading her down a dark path. This was what was going to end her. Maybe not tonight, but eventually.

But what was he supposed to do? He knew nothing about the thing that was in the woods with them, the thing that had taken his sister. He didn't know how to find it, he didn't know where to begin looking. The only thing he knew was how to kill it, and he knew he had to do that before it did something worse to her. He tried to think back to what she had said to him on the way there, it had all seemed so insignificant at the time, and the most important thing on his mind had been trying to follow the road to the woods. He tried to remember her words, but nothing came to mind. It hadn't seemed important, because he had been sure that she knew everything. But she was gone. What the hell was he supposed to do? Where was he supposed to start? The forest was huge, and it was almost dark. Hadn't she said this thing was impossible to beat at night? He was screwed. And if he was screwed, so was she.

His eyes fell to her bag, left lying in the dirt, and he frowned, curious. Her weapons were in there, and any chance of her defending herself was in that bag. Had she dropped it on purpose? Had she left it there to help him? It was a bag he had never seen her use outside of working those hunts. It had been with her when he had followed her up to Ohio. Maybe there was something in it, something that he could use. Not happy about it, and somewhat uncomfortable going through his sister's things, he pulled it towards himself and opened it. He pulled out a black hooded jacket, something else he had never seen her wear before, and placed it on the ground. He took out another gun, a knife, and a book. Eyes narrowed, he opened the cover, and her writing filled every page. It was her diary.

Dean had thought he knew everything about his sister, yet the thought of her owning a diary had never even occurred to him. His eyes lingered on the words for a moment, and he saw his own name written there. A part of him wanted to sit there and read every sentence, but he shook his head to himself at the thought, he couldn't do that to her. And he didn't want to think of the wrath that would follow should she find out he had been reading her every thought and feeling. He shoved it back into the bag, and that was when his eyes fell to something else. There was another book in there, similar to the first, and, curiously, he opened it.

This one was different, nothing like the first. It looked more like a scrapbook. It was filled with pieces of paper printed from her laptop, news articles, pieces of writing he didn't have time to read, pictures, and he was sure that, to her, it was in some kind of order. But he noticed, through the mess, every page had a title, as though she had sectioned it into chapters. His eyes scanned the first one, Vampires, and beneath it she had written everything she knew about them. He continued, flipping frantically through the pages, everything was in there. Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Ghosts, Ghouls, Rugarus, Demons, any legend he had ever been told, every monster he had ever heard of, and then some. Alison was keeping a journal. He searched rapidly through the pages, desperate to find something, _anything_ , to help him find his sister. And then he came to a stop, close to the back of the book, and his heart skipped a beat at the single word written at the top of the page. Wendigos.

This was his answer. Alison had given it to him, and he was going to find out what he had to do to save her.

But, his flicker of hope was short lived. Because that was the only word written on the page. There was nothing more. For whatever reason, Alison had never finished her entry, and, once again, he was left knowing nothing. He was in the middle of the woods, his sister was missing, and the only hope he had of saving her was to hunt down and kill a monster which, until a couple of days earlier, he hadn't even known existed.

Just as he was sure he was about to panic, when he didn't know how to think or breathe or feel, his phone rang from his pocket. He almost ripped it out in a prayer that it would be her, but his stomach dropped at the name that came up; _Dad_. He contemplated not answering it, but he knew that would only lead his parents to panic, too. And he didn't need that. He cleared his throat and held the phone to his ear. "Hey, Dad." he answered, as bright as his voice would allow him to sound.

"Hey." His dad said. "Your mom asked me to call and check in on you guys, how's the camping going?"

Dean sighed, because he could hear the amusement in his father's question. He could picture him there, sitting at home with a smirk on his face as he imagined the two of them struggling to build a tent. If only he knew the real trouble they were in. But he couldn't tell him. "Uh, it's going fine." he lied. "We're good."

"Yeah?" He chuckled. "Where's your sister?"

"Oh, she's here." he said, automatic, shaking his head to himself. "She's fine."

"Hm." He knew his dad wasn't convinced, and he had to get off the phone before he asked to speak to her, because that would sink them both in their lies. "You sure you're okay, Dean?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're fine. We're good." He gave a nervous laugh, and he tried his best to steady his voice, because a part of him really did want to cry. "Uh, dad, listen, it's a really crappy line, I can barely hear you, we'll call you tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay." He sighed in relief, because, for whatever reason, his dad seemed to buy it. And that had bought him some time. "Have fun."

"Bye, dad." And, with that, he hung up the phone, pulling a hand roughly through his hair.

What the hell was he supposed to do?

Alison was gone, and he didn't know how to find her. He was her only hope, and he didn't know where to start.

This was his mistake, and she was going to pay for it.


	14. Finding The Missing

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Fourteen: Finding The Missing**

 _Colorado - 04:47AM_

Dean ducked yet another tree branch as he headed deeper, further into the woods. It had started as a panicked, frantic search for anything he thought could lead him to finding his sister. But that had been two hours ago. And those two hours had felt like a lifetime. Now, it had turned into simply wandering through the dark leaves hoping, _praying_ , that he could find something, _anything_ , to lead him to her. It was past dark, and, even with a flash light, it was becoming harder and harder to see anything. But he wasn't leaving that forest without her, and he wouldn't stop until he had found her.

There was a sound behind him, something that resembled snapping branches and rustling leaves. He wasn't alone. He turned sharply, his eyes scanning the darkness, and it was as though the sound was getting louder, closer. Something was out there, something was watching him, waiting for him. He took a step back, shining his flash light in the direction of the noise, but he saw nothing. His gun was aimed and ready to fire, only he didn't have the first clue in which direction to shoot. He backed way, unsure, and he felt himself lose his balance. The ground was uneven beneath his feet and he felt it disappear from under him. Only it wasn't just a trip, he didn't hit the ground and he didn't stop falling. It felt like stairs, made of cold, damp stone. He landed at the bottom with a thud, and for a moment he lay there, dazed. He groaned as he pushed himself to sit up, and he looked around slowly.

His surroundings were unfamiliar, nothing that he could ever have expected to find in the middle of the woods. It looked something like a basement, something that had been left behind from a cabin that had long since been demolished. "Hello?" he called, but there was no response, only silence. It was dark, cold, eerie, it looked like something out of a horror movie, and he couldn't determine whether he was alone down there.

Slowly, wary, he followed the dark, narrow path into a wider space, and that was when he saw her, Alison, just hanging there from the wooden roof by her wrists. She was covered in mud, and her face was bloody. For a moment he wasn't even sure that she was breathing, his stomach dropped and a new wave of panic ran through him.

Dean crossed the room to her in three long strides, and his palm came into contact with her cheek. His stomach dropped in some kind of relief because her skin was warm to touch, she was breathing. Alison was alive. She was okay.

The contact to her skin seemed to pull her back into reality. Slowly, Alison blinked open her green eyes, and the first thing she saw was the panicked face of her brother, just inches away from her own. His eyes were wide, unblinking, staring right at her. She saw the panic, she saw the fear, she saw the desperation, the relief, and she didn't miss the way he shook his head at her the slightest bit.

"Dude," He huffed a laugh, and he looked torn between laughing and crying. "You scared the hell out of me."

Alison scoffed, blinking hard as she looked around slowly, taking in her surroundings, she looked confused, as though she wasn't sure what had happened. "Just testing you." she muttered, he knew it was supposed to be a joke, probably to calm the panic he was sure was evident on his face, but she was clearly still groggy. "How did you find me?"

Dean chuckled. "By accident." he quipped, but it was more honest than she realized. "Come on, let's get you down." He pulled the knife from the belt of her jeans and forcefully cut through the ropes at her wrists. She dropped down, and he had to catch her before she crumpled to the ground before him. "Are you okay?" he asked, and she could see that the panic had come right back.

Alison nodded, anything but convincing. "Yeah, 'm good." she muttered. "Just give me a minute."

He loosened the grip he held at the tops of her arms and gently lowered her to sit on the ground, and he dropped to sit beside her. "I thought you were gonna be dead." he said quietly, glancing up at her.

"You exaggerate." she replied simply, as though the thought couldn't have concerned her less.

"I exaggerate?" he exclaimed. "You're _bleeding_."

Alison looked up at him through one eye, eyebrows furrowed. "So are you." she countered. She reached up and wiped away some of the blood coming from the cut at the end of his left eyebrow. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Fell down the stairs." he admitted, his voice completely serious.

She laughed, as though she had assumed him to be joking, but his face didn't change. She looked skeptical. "In the middle of the woods?"

He smirked, because he knew that she was simply going along with what she thought was a joke on his part. "I did, actually."

Alison frowned, confused, but seemed to accept it from him. "Fair enough." she commented. "Where are we, anyway?"

"I'm not sure." he admitted. "Somewhere underground." He gave a sigh, looking over her slowly, and it was beginning to sink in what could have happened to her. He wouldn't admit it, but he had been afraid. "You see, Ali, this is what I was talking about." he warned, and his voice became stern. "Doing this alone, it's dangerous."

Alison simply huffed, shaking her head, she didn't want to hear it. He knew it was a conversation that she didn't want to have, he could see it in her face. She knew that he was right, she just didn't want to admit it. Either that, or maybe she didn't want to accept the real trouble she knew she was in. Perhaps it really was all severe denial with her. He couldn't work it out.

"I would have found a way out of here, Dean." she said, her voice quiet, but he wasn't so convinced, and, he had a feeling, neither was she.

"Maybe this time. But what happens the time when something goes really wrong?" he pressed, he wasn't backing down again. "Then what? Huh? No one will know where you are, or what happened to you. What happens when one day you just don't come out the other side of one of these jobs?"

Alison shot him a look, something between a warning to stop and a plea to drop it. "Have you seen it?" she asked him, as though he hadn't said a word.

Dean shook his head at her. It was a blatant excuse to change the subject, but he knew it was what they needed to be talking about. There was a time and a place, and he had a feeling she was neglecting to acknowledge she had a nine hour car ride back home with him to sit though. "No." he said simply. "Not yet. But I think it was close."

She nodded, as if to say that she agreed. "So why are we sitting here?"

Dean watched as she pulled the gun from the back of her jeans, and he followed her actions. She pushed herself to stand again, and he noticed how she still seemed a little shaky, but he chose not to comment. She made a move towards the direction Dean had entered, but something stopped her.

They both turned sharply at the sound of a growl behind them, guns aimed and ready to fire, and Dean wasn't sure which one of them looked more stunned at the sight before them. The creature that stood over them was huge, easily twice the size of them. It was terrifying, like something from a horror movie, nothing he could ever have imagined. It's teeth were sharp, and as it growled it only seemed to intensify the true look of hunger it portrayed. He heard his sister shift the slightest bit, and then the sound of a gun firing rang through the air and echoed off the cold, dark walls around them.

Dean followed her lead as she continued to shoot ahead. It seemed to stagger a few steps backwards, before it fell and crumbled to the ground before them, still. He didn't know how to react, and he was back in that place where he didn't know what was happening around him, where the reality set in and he realized the situation he had been in was beyond a death sentence.

"Is it..." Dean paused, looking over it slowly. "Dead?"

Alison stepped forwards, wary, her gun still aimed and ready to shoot, and she looked down at it for a long moment, nodding slowly. "Yeah," she said softly, as if not to disturb the silence that seemed to have fallen over them. "Yeah, it's dead."

Dean nodded, because he didn't know what to say. "So... now what?" he asked, apprehensive.

Alison turned back to him, and he watched as she returned the gun to the back of her jeans. "Now, we go home." she told him simply. "It's over."

Once again, he nodded. And, truthfully, he didn't know how he felt about that.

Dean could see the glimmer in her green eyes, he saw the life there and he recognized the adrenaline. He knew right there, just looking at her, he knew that she wasn't going to stop. Alison was fearless, she didn't see the danger that was right in front of her. Either that, or she was ignoring it completely. Which one it was, he couldn't determine, but it didn't change the outcome. There was nothing that was going to stop her from doing what she was doing, and he was only going to be able to watch her back for so long.

But it was more than that, now it was over, now that they were going home, he knew there was something he had to tell her. He had held off as long as he could, but he couldn't keep her in the dark anymore. And he knew, once he did, there was no taking it back. It was going to break her.


	15. Late Night Talks

_Thank you as always for taking the time to read and review, your support means the world!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Fifteen: Late Night Talks**

 _Impala - 6:02AM_

It was as Dean turned onto the highway, and the stretch of dark, towering trees at each side of the road seemed to stretch on forever, that he finally decided it was time for one of them to break the silence that had long since fallen over the car. It wasn't necessarily uncomfortable, but with the thousand things he wanted to say swimming around his mind on an unending loop, it only seemed to grow louder each minute that passed. A part of him knew, it was now or never, because, once they were out of that car again, it was unlikely his sister would sit down and have a full conversation with him about what had happened that night. He had a feeling she was expecting him to say something eventually, and he knew there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. He sighed and adjusted himself in his seat a little, thinking hard.

Where was he supposed to start?

"I wasn't kidding around tonight, you know." he stated simply, as though he could have been referring to anything. But, judging by the way she didn't react at all, as though she hadn't heard him, he had a feeling she knew what he was getting at, and it was more than obvious that, if she had the choice, she would have pretended he hadn't spoken at all. "I let it drop because there was still that thing in the woods, but you need to listen to me, Alison."

"I've heard it all before, Dean." she murmured, tired. "A _million_ times."

He simply shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "You're not _hearing_ me. You think I'm trying to stop you, I'm not. You don't understand what it is I'm trying to say to you, because you're _not_ listening."

Alison offered an exasperated sigh. "Dean, I understand."

"No, I don't think that you do." he countered. "Ali, you could have _died_ tonight. Do you get that? Just, hear me out, _please_?" He shot a look her way, she looked annoyed, but she said nothing, and he took that as an invitation to speak. "You take one of these hunts, you lie to mom and dad about where you are, what if something happens? What happens when you don't come home? Alison, they wouldn't have the first clue what had happened to you. I mean, they think you're up in Cali when really you're lying in a ditch somewhere in Nevada with your guts missing."

Alison scoffed, incredulous. "Let's not exaggerate, Dean." she deadpanned, remaining unconcerned.

"Look," he stopped her firmly. "I'm not saying don't do it. I'm saying don't do it alone."

Admittedly, that comment caught her by surprise, but that still didn't change the fact that it was a conversation she really didn't want to have. Her head ached, her body ached, and the only thing that could interest her at that point was her own bed. "Can we not have this argument right now?" she asked, almost pleading. "I'm not in the mood."

Dean huffed, annoyed. Sometimes he thought it would be easier to talk to a brick wall. "You're unbelievable." he muttered, more to himself than to her, but she heard him all the same.

" _Stop_ lecturing me, Dean." she snapped. "I mean it this time. I've told you why I do what I do, I've told you _everything_ you could _possibly_ want to know about it, what more do you want from me? I don't know what you want me to say to you." She sighed, shaking her head, and she could see that he was more than a little taken aback by her sudden change in tone. "You know, you were always the one person I thought I could share everything with. I could show you my ugly side, the side where I didn't make the smartest choices, and you would never judge me for it, you always had my back. What's so different this time? Huh?" He opened and closed his mouth, admittedly struggling for a response, but said nothing. "Please," she continued. "Just drop it."

Dean thought over her words for a long moment. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was being too pushy with her. She _had_ to have heard him by now, the amount of times he had given her the same speech, she had to have taken at least some of it in, she had to understand what it was he was trying to say to her. Maybe she just needed time to think on it, the same way he needed time to think on her responses. Maybe it was time to drop it. At least for now.

Once again, the silence had fallen over the car. This time thick, uncomfortable, almost awkward, and he knew that she wasn't in the mood to chat. She didn't look as though she was in the mood for anything, and, in the quick glances he took of her when his eyes took a short break from the long road ahead, he noticed how she seemed to be thinking hard about something. He dared to hope that she was thinking over his words, that she understood the dangerous and dark path she was walking, but he didn't want to ask. Any attempt at bringing it up again would only lead them to a fight, and he wasn't prepared for that. Not tonight.

"Hey," he began, his tone brighter, as if in attempt to lighten the mood. "You think next time we road-trip dad would let us take his car?"

Alison simply huffed in response. "Probably not, no." she said bluntly. It came out a little harsher than she had meant. She was tired, cranky, sore, and, in all honesty, she was thinking harder on her brother's words than she had intended to. She sat up a little straighter and pulled her knees up to her chest, wincing a little in pain, and softening her voice a little. "Wasn't that the whole point of getting another car when we all passed our tests? So we wouldn't have to drive his? You know he hates the thought of one of us breaking it."

Dean shook his head. "Hey, as the oldest, that's my rightful inheritance. I should be allowed to drive it."

Despite herself, Alison couldn't hold back a laugh. "Well, you tell him that. See how far you get."

"No, think about it, ghost hunting in an Impala." He threw her a grin. "That not sound cool to you?"

Alison toyed with the idea of bringing up the speech he had given just five minutes earlier, about how ghost hunting was a bad idea all together, about how she needed to stop, about how she was going to get herself killed, but she didn't. "I guess there's more room for a dead body in his car." she responded thoughtfully, and she glanced back over her shoulder. "I doubt you'd fit one in the trunk of this car. Unless you, you know, cut it up, obviously."

"Wow." Dean commented. "You're dark. I can't tell if it's just that you watch too many movies or you're actually deranged."

She scoffed. "You know you thought it."

"Yeah, maybe, but you said it." Dean chuckled. "Besides, might be better if you asked him, he's more likely to say yes to you."

Her eyebrows raised, curious. "And, why is that?" she pressed.

"Come on," he smirked. "You've always been his favorite. Daddy's little girl. You do no wrong in his eyes. Face it, Ali, he's been wrapped around your finger from day one."

"Yeah," Alison scoffed. "Says the mommy's boy."

"Well, it's not mom's car we're trying to drive, is it?" he countered, smug.

Alison rolled her eyes at him, and she looked ahead out of the window. Dean watched her once again shift uncomfortably, she seemed stiff, and he didn't miss the way she once again winced in pain as she moved. It was the same as she had done when he had found her in the woods, and he was starting to think that she was more hurt than she had let on. It was subtle things, things that would probably go unnoticed by anyone else, including herself, but he had been seeing them since they had gotten in the car.

"Hey, are you sure you're alright?" he asked, concerned. "Do you want me to pull over? I can find us a hospital before we go home." he offered.

But Alison waved him off. "I'm fine, honestly." she said, her voice light, unconcerned. "Don't worry about me."

"You know, you don't have to play your little act with me, Ali." he said knowingly.

She looked to him, one brow raised. "I'll bite. What act would that be?"

"This tough chick act you put on." he stated. "I know you better than anyone else in this world, kid. I can see right through you."

Alison shook her head, bemused. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine."

But Dean shot her a look, one that said he knew different. "Ali, you act like you're this big tough badass, you're really not." he smirked at her.

"Actually, I think I am." she said, defensive.

"You read books about murderers for kicks, you can list every serial killer out there by their number of kills or how many years they got in prison, yet I also happen to know you're partial to a Nicholas Sparks novel now and again." At that, she looked shocked, and he smirked when she didn't reply. "You want more? Okay. You've watched every horror movie out there, but I've seen you watching your chick flicks when you think everyone's asleep. You left school and all your friends got jobs serving in bars, or restaurants, you went to a nursing home, I mean, what does that say about you? And, I don't care what you say, you cried for hours when we watched that movie about the dog."

"You know what, I'm so _over_ arguing about that movie. _Yes_ , I cried. You cried. Sam cried. Mom cried. Even dad cried." she snapped. "No one with a soul has _ever_ watched that movie and _not_ cried." Alison threw him a look. "Now, are you done?"

"What? Did I touch a nerve?" he smirked. "See, you can't even handle being complimented. Ali, you're literally the sweetest kid on this planet, and yet you still try and play the big tough act."

"You've gone so off track from whatever the hell you were talking about I can't even remember what it was." she muttered. "And, by the way, I don't think the _sweetest kid on this planet_ would spend her time chasing down Wendigos and digging up corpses. Just a thought."

But Dean ignored her. "I was saying you can drop your little tough act." he said, a little smug. "My point was, as much as you like to pretend nothing bothers you, I know when you're upset, I know you get hurt, just like I know you're in pain right now. So, the offer still stands, do you wanna go and get checked out before we get home?"

Alison shook her head. "No," she said simply. "As much as you don't believe me, I'm good. Honest."

Dean threw her a skeptical glance, but seemed to accept her answer. "Okay."

It was a long drive home, and she didn't want to take the conversation back to that place she had been trying her hardest to avoid, but there was still a thought lingering in the back of her mind, a question she wanted the answer to. She hadn't dared bring it up while they had been on the hunt, but now, she wanted to know. "Look, I didn't wanna push my luck on this, but," She paused, as though tentative, and shrugged. "Why are we here, Dean?"

Dean glanced at her, confused. "What?"

"I mean, you were all dead set against me never doing this again, right? Last week it was dangerous, it was reckless, it was gonna get me killed, and then you just up and decided you wanted to take a hunt with me? And I know you said it's because you thought I was going to do it anyway, but you know if I'd have said I was you could have stopped me, easily. Hell, there was no way I could have sneaked out of the house right under your nose, you know that. If you wanted me to stop, you could have made me." She paused, expectant. "You brought it up again, why?"

Dean offered her a shrug, as though it wasn't a big deal. "I don't know, Ali." he answered, honest. "I really don't. I guess, maybe I was telling the truth, maybe I was just trying to take an interest in your hobbies. I mean, is it _so_ hard to believe? I went to your dance recitals when you were a kid, I went to your cheerleader tournaments, I went to your soccer games. I even went to watch those debate things when you had that weird phase at sixteen. It's the same thing, only these days instead of pom-poms and shouting about politics, it's hunting creepy monsters in the woods and digging up graves."

"Okay, for the record, you went to my dance recitals because you were _eight_ and mom _made_ you. You went to my cheerleader tournaments so you could ogle the pretty girls in little skirts, you went to my soccer games because Miss Rivers used to buy that _please, miss, I can't have detention tonight my baby sister is counting on me to see her soccer game_ from you." He snickered, and she shot him a glare. "And, by the way, there was _nothing_ weird about me joining a debate team."

"Ali, you got kicked out of debate for starting a fight." he told her pointedly. "Hardly the peaceful discussion they advertise on the leaflets."

"That guy was a bitch, and his opinion was so backwards." she countered. "I was defending women's rights."

"You threw a dictionary at him." he stated, bewildered.

"Yes," she nodded. "So he could look up feminism and maybe learn something. I probably did him a service." Dean rolled his eyes, still as baffled now as he was the day he had watched it happen. "Besides, that's not what we're talking about. I don't buy that's all it is."

"Alright," Dean challenged, glancing between her and the road. "If I'm not taking an interest in your hobbies, what do _you_ think I'm doing?"

"I think you liked it." she said, smug, watching carefully for his reaction. "I think, despite what you're saying, and despite the performance you gave after Ohio, you actually enjoyed yourself."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Let's not go nuts." he quipped, but she seemed unconvinced. "I think it's interesting, I'll give you that. I just, I wanna know what you're seeing out there. I wanna understand it. I can't even imagine some of the things you've probably seen doing this, I'm not so sure that I want to, and I'm not for a second saying that I condone this, because I don't, but I do wanna understand it. I think, after all the crap I gave you, after following you, doubting you, I owe it to you to at least try and understand. Let's face it, you were never gonna stop just because I said so, and, if you're gonna do this, I wanna do it with you. At least before—"

But he stopped himself, and she could tell by the look on his face that he had said too much. Whatever he had been about to say, he didn't want her to hear it, and she could see him inwardly yelling at himself for even opening his mouth in the first place.

"Before?" she pushed, frowning. "Before what?"

Dean sighed deeply. "This has gone on for long enough." he muttered. "Look, Ali, there's something I've gotta tell you, and you're not gonna like it." He paused, and he could feel the gaze of her eyes burning into him as she waited on edge for him to finish. "I gotta go back."

"What?" She frowned harder, and for a long moment she didn't understand what he had meant. But then it clicked, and he saw the realization wash though her. She shook her head the slightest bit. "Dean, you've only just come home. They can't do that."

"They can." he said, apologetic. "It's my job, kid. I was never gonna be home for long. Not this time."

Alison was silent for a few minutes, her face was unreadable, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going through her mind. For a moment, he was sure she looked close to tears, but she took a shaky breath, her face turned towards the window beside her, and she composed herself. "When?" she finally asked, her voice calm, steady.

This time it was Dean's turn to struggle for an answer. There was a long moment of silence, where he just couldn't bring himself to say anything at all, but he sighed, and he gave a small shrug. "Couple weeks." he murmured, as though the quieter he said it, the less real it would be.

Those words hit her like a punch to the chest. A couple of weeks? That was barely any time at all. "Do mom and dad know?" she asked, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn't going to like his answer.

"Yeah," He nodded slowly. "Yeah, they know. We talked about it, and we thought—"

"Wait," Alison scoffed, as though in disbelief, offended. " _We_ talked about it? Who's we? As in, you all got together and had a little family meeting about _lying_ to me? Oh, you know what's a good idea? Let's all keep Alison in the dark, won't that be fun."

" _No_ ," He shook his head, his voice firm. "It wasn't like that."

She shook her head at him, and this time he was sure she was going to cry. "Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew that you'd react like this." he said, defensive. "I knew you'd get upset."

Her eyebrows shot up, and he knew he'd said the wrong thing. " _Upset_?!" she exclaimed. "Can you blame me? How the hell couldn't you tell me?!"

"Alison." He stopped her, his voice hard, urging her to listen to him. "Listen to me," He sighed, because he didn't know how to explain what had been going through his head when he had decided not to tell her. It had made so much sense to him at the time, and now he was leaning towards agreeing with her that he had been in the wrong. "These past couple of weeks being home, they've been great. I've missed you, kid, I missed hanging out with you. And, I don't know, I just didn't wanna see you get so wrapped up in the idea of me going back that you forgot I was home in the first place."

For a long moment she said nothing, simply sat back in her seat, and she was inclined to believe him. The last time, once she had known that he was counting down the days to leaving, things had been different. There had always been something hanging over their heads, something that reminded them that the time they had left as a family was short, maybe he had been right in not telling her. It all felt surreal. She was hurt, she was scared, and there was a feeling of dread somewhere in the pit of her stomach that she knew wouldn't go away now she knew.

"Hey," Dean reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be home again before you know it, kiddo, I promise. Goodbye is never forever."

Alison nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I know." Her voice was thick, quiet, and he knew she was holding tears back with everything she had in her. "I just, I miss you. It's not the same being home when you're gone, and now Sam's gone, too..." she trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

Dean thought for a moment, and he sighed. "Look, while we're knee deep in painful conversation already, I know you don't wanna talk about this, and I know you don't wanna hear it, but I need you to hear me out this time. You don't have to say anything, I just need to you listen."

The look on her face told him she didn't want to, but she nodded all the same, he wasn't asking for a conversation about it, she just had to listen. She could do that.

The truth was, he didn't even know where to begin. "You know something, Ali, when we were growing up, I always tried to let you be you. Whatever you wanted to do, whoever you wanted to be, whether you wanted to go to college or not, I always said to myself that I'd let you be that person, that I wouldn't get involved, and I wouldn't be the kind of brother to lecture you, or Sammy. I always knew, whoever you were going to be, you were going to be great at it. And I was right." Alison narrowed her eyes at him, as if to ask where he was going with it. "You, uh, you remember that day we cut school? And you made me go with you to get your nose pierced? Mom freaked when she saw it. And, I told her you were just trying to be yourself, that it was okay. I always wanted to be that kind of brother to you. And, I hate to tell you what to do, I hate telling you that you can't do something, because I always promised myself that I wouldn't, but I wasn't joking, Ali, while I'm gone, this needs to stop."

Alison looked away. "Dean—"

"No." he stopped her before she could argue. "Just, hear me out. You know when I was coming home, I sat on that plane, sat on that bus, and the whole time I was just thinking about hanging out with my kid sister again. I don't ever wanna have to make that trip back knowing you're not gonna be there for me to come home to. I don't want anything to happen to you, Alison. I get why you do it, and, I'm not saying it's smart, but it's not... bad. That much I do know. I think what you do out there is amazing. And, despite what I said, I do think you're pretty badass." he quipped. "But, I also know that tonight could have been a completely different story. We weren't guaranteed to come out of those woods alive, and deep down I know that you know that. I know that you don't wanna stop, and I know you're gonna find it hard. I'm not saying for a second that you can never do it again, just, _please_ , Ali, don't do it by yourself. I promise I'm not gonna nag you on this, I'll leave it alone, but just think about it, that's all I'm gonna ask, okay?"

Alison was silent for a long moment, and he could see her trying to work through his words in her head. "Okay."

That was all she said, and that was all he needed to hear. "I meant what I said, you know." he stated, his voice sounding far off.

She glanced to him, brow furrowed. "Which bit?"

Dean looked down to her and offered a smile. "I picked an idiot for a best friend." he said simply. "Only, she's not so much of an idiot."

Alison smiled. "I think I picked a pretty good best friend myself." she said softly. "I don't think I could have asked for a better one."

* * *

 _Lawrence, Kansas - Home - 03:12PM._

Dean glanced down at his watch as he closed the car door behind himself. "You know," he began, voice light. "If we're lucky, we might just get away with this."

Alison nodded, following his actions and closing her own door as as she climbed out, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The sun was high in the sky, and, although their father's car was parked on the drive, they knew that it didn't necessarily mean that their parents were home. It was probably the first time in a long time their parents had been child free for the weekend, and she liked to think they'd used the time to do something together. More than that, she simply hoped that they weren't home.

They headed towards the front door of their home, and, through the living room window they could see that the lights were turned off. The TV wasn't on, and there was definitely no one occupying the couch. There was hope that their parents wouldn't be home, and it would give them the escape of explaining the state they were returning home in. Dean opened the door, and, for a moment, it looked as though they were going to get away with it, but he heard the sound of voices talking in the kitchen, and he just knew that their luck from the weekend had run it's course.

"Dean?!" A voice called down the hallway. "Alison? Is that you?"

Alison shot him a look, a smirk on her face. "Yeah, mom, it's just us." she called back, closing the door behind herself.

Automatically, they held up their fists, eyes glued to the others in warning. "On three." Dean muttered.

And, on three, they played their own game. They looked down, Dean's palm was flat, and Alison's was balled into a fist. She groaned. "Best of three?" she asked, hopeful.

But Dean scoffed, and made his way towards the kitchen. "Fat chance." he threw back at her. And that meant she was going to be the one to explain to their parents why they were returning home covered in dirt and blood.

They headed through to the kitchen to find their parents waiting, expectant. They both sat at the counter, their dad with a beer in front of him and their mother with a glass of white wine. Clearly they had been enjoying their child free weekend. The radio that their mom played while she cooked was on, playing and old song as the sun blared into the room from the open window before them. Alison almost felt like she was standing in a spotlight, just waiting to be interrogated.

Their dad barely even glanced up from his beer as they entered. "Are you two just getting home?" he asked, more out of obligation than actual annoyance. They knew, as long as they'd had fun, and as long as they were okay, he didn't mind.

"Erm, yeah, drive was longer than we thought." Dean answered, giving a shrug, it seemed a plausible excuse.

But it was then that their mother turned to look at them, and her face dropped at the sight. "Wow." she commented, eyes wide with concern. "What happened to you two? Are you alright?"

"Erm..." Alison opened and closed her mouth, fumbling over her words. She didn't know what to tell her. "We, uh, you know, we..."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and the concern was written all over her face. "You're both bleeding." she stated. "And you've covered in mud, what happened to you?"

"Yeah," She nodded, looking down pointedly at the blood on her shirt. "I, uh, fell."

Dean inwardly groaned, and he wasn't sure what had possessed him to let his sister deal with the cover up. She had never been good at it.

And, as predicted, their mother looked anything but convinced by her story. "You fell?"

"Yeah, I, well, uh, _we_ fell." she mumbled, looking nowhere but the floor.

"Down a hill." Dean added, his voice a little more hopeful that she might believe them. "Branches."

Alison nodded vigorously. "Pointy twigs."

"Yeah," Dean stated. "That kinda thing."

"Pointy things." she encouraged. "Leaves and, you know... stuff."

Dean cleared his throat, and there was a long, awkward moment of silence throughout the kitchen. It was clear that she wasn't accepting of their lame and unimaginative, and, to say the least, unconvincing story. He didn't blame her. He wouldn't have bought it, either. But their dad looked as though he realized they didn't want to tell them the truth, and, on the most part, he would let them get away with their little white lies if it would stop their mother from worrying.

He looked between them slowly, shaking his head in amusement. He wouldn't ask them what had really happened, but he would've given anything to see it. "Like I said, I would have paid good money to see the two of you camping."

Alison rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her face. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

Dean watched her go, and he made a move to follow her out of the room, but something stopped him. There was a thoughtful look on his face, and a sense of bravery washed over him. "Hey, now might be a bad time to ask, but can we drive your car?" he asked, looking straight at his dad, face stone cold serious.

Alison turned around, eyes wide, as if she couldn't believe he'd even asked him. She looked stunned, as did their mother. Their dad glanced between them, and he laughed, really laughed, but neither of his children so much as cracked a smile. They looked confused. They glanced between each other, and they looked back to him with raised eyebrows, expressions mirroring the others. "You're not kidding." he concluded, and they both shook their heads, looking on at him, waiting. "No." he said firmly. "Absolutely not. You came back from a simply camping trip covered in blood. You think you're getting behind the wheel of that car? No."

Dean shrugged. "Worth a try."


	16. Our Choices Brought Us Here

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Sixteen: Our Choices Brought Us Here**

" _I'll be home again before you know it, kiddo." Dean said, his voice sincere, and, for the most part, Alison was inclined to believe him. Rather, she_ wanted _to believe him, and she knew he meant what he said, that was never in question, she just knew there was so much out of his control, and that was what scared her. If it was up to Dean, he would be back, sooner rather than later, but she knew, the universe often had other ideas._

 _Alison simply nodded in response, just about noticeable, and took a shaky breath. "You better be." Her voice wavered, and he could see the effort she was making to remain strong._

 _Dean stepped closer, and he pulled her into a tight hug. Her hands gripped to the back of his jacket, as though she could hold him there and prevent him from ever leaving. He knew, if she had the choice, she would. If him leaving the first time had been hard, it was_ nothing _compared to how she felt now. The last time she had been wishing him luck as he entered into the unknown. This time, however, she knew_ exactly _where he was going. She knew how bad it could be for him, and, he knew, that was his own fault. He had told her things about his time away that she was now regretting hearing about. Her brother had been shot, he had watched his friends die before his eyes, and she knew that it could just as easily have been him. Knowing that made it all so much harder._

 _He heard a sob escape her, one that he was sure she had tried to hide, and he pulled her closer still. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Family._

" _No going to Disney Land while I'm gone, alright?" he said, his voice low, soft, almost pleading, but she was sure he had said it to ensure she was the only one who heard him. "Please, Alison."_

 _Alison once again nodded. He wanted her to promise him, and she knew that, but it was a promise she wasn't sure she would be able to keep. And so she didn't comment on it. "Be careful, Dean." she urged, her voice desperate. "Please."_

" _Always am." He pulled back to face her. "You, too, sis. Goodbye is never forever, remember that."_

* * *

 _Three months later_

Alison opened her eyes, and her body gave a violent shudder against the cold air that whipped around her. That day seemed to play through her mind on repeat, it was a memory that she just couldn't escape. Dean's words wouldn't leave her, and she knew now that he had been right all along. About everything. Maybe had she made a different choice that day, things would have worked out differently for her. Maybe, had she made a promise to him that day, the way she knew he had wanted her to, she wouldn't have ended up where she was.

That day seemed so long ago. The conversation had taken place over three months ago, and yet it remained so fresh in her mind, as if it had only been days ago. Although, she couldn't be sure, because she was very quickly losing track of the days as they ran past. It hadn't been that long ago since she had spoken to her brother on the phone, yet, to her, everyday now felt like an antagonizing lifetime. And every day she considered it would be her last.

These days, everything was so different, and the only thought on her mind was her brother. He was who she needed, and he was so far out of reach it seemed impossible to think that they would ever see each other again. Some days, she would think about Dean leaving, and the pain she had felt as she had watched him walk away, knowing deep down that it might be the last time she ever saw him, and it always brought that same feeling of dread back to the pit of her stomach. But it wasn't the waking thoughts that were the worst, it was the ones that came at night that haunted her. Sometimes she dreamed things, nightmares, about what was happening over there, about where he could be, or the worst thing imaginable happening to him.

But Alison had never imagined, that day she had watched him walk away, that the thought of them not seeing each other again would be on her. She never could have thought that she would be the one to disappear, to not come home again.

Lately, all she had time to do was think. Her trembling fingers rubbed at her bare arm in vein, the white vest she wore, dirty and ripped and stained with blood, did nothing to shield her from the icy wind that seemed to constantly blow around her. She squeezed her eyes closed and a single, helpless tear ran down her cheek, leaving a clear track in the midst of dirt and blood that otherwise covered her. Was this the place she was going to die?

Alison was trapped, and she couldn't see a way out of it this time.

* * *

 _Meanwhile_

Dean took a short breath in some attempt to compose himself. He reached up and knocked on the door in front of him, not knowing what to expect on the other side. Whatever this was about, he already knew that it wasn't going to be good. No one went to see their boss for good reason, that much he did know. He had seen it in the eyes of his friends when he had been sent to the office, he had felt it in his chest that something was wrong. Maybe they were extending his tour? Maybe something had gone wrong? Maybe he had done something wrong? Or maybe it was something else entirely. Was someone hurt? Were they under threat?

Before he had the time to continue his thoughts, he heard someone call for him to enter on the other side of the door. He pulled a hand down his face and took a breath before he pushed the door open and stepped inside. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, his voice calm, stoic, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

"Hello, Dean." The man behind the desk stood from his seat. David Matthews. He had been Dean's boss since the day he had joined the army, and he had a lot of respect for him, as did everyone, it reflected in the way people spoke to him, in the way he walked—chest out with the many earned medals pinned to his uniform shining in the sun—but never once had he called him into his office, and never once had he addressed him as Dean. Something was definitely wrong. There was something about the expression on his face that didn't fill Dean with confidence. It was a look he had never seen him wear before, and he wasn't sure what it meant. "Please, Dean, take a seat." he said, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

Dean frowned, but did as instructed. "Sir, what's going on?" he pressed, curious, impatient, concerned.

David sighed heavily, for a moment he looked unsure of what to say, as though he was struggling for an answer. "Dean, this isn't easy to tell you." He paused, as though searching for the right words, and Dean's stomach was in knots. "We heard from your mother this morning. I'm very sorry, Dean, your sister, Alison, she's dead."

And, right there, in that moment, Dean's world came crumbling down around him.


	17. Faith In Life Or Acceptance Of Death

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Seventeen: Faith In Life Or Acceptance Of Death**

 _Lawrence, Kansas_ _— 12:04PM_

For the first time in a very long time, maybe for the first time in his life, Dean Winchester wasn't happy to be home.

The sun shone brightly in the sky above, despite December being just around the corner. The air was icy, the trees had long since shed their leaves, yet he barely felt the cold breeze as it ripped at his jacket. There was no smile on his face as he headed up the short path to the front door of his home, and he found himself wishing it was just that little bit longer, that maybe he could buy himself a few more minutes before he got there. There was no feeling of excitement or joy in the fact he was about to see his family again, because he knew that one of them wasn't going to be there. He found himself dreading what was to come on the other side of the door. And that was something he never thought he would experience. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel, what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say, to any of them.

With a steady breath, hesitant, he opened the door, and his home somehow felt different. It was almost eerie, cold, gloomy, nothing like the welcoming, homey atmosphere he was so used to. The warmth seemed gone, it just felt as though something was missing. He dropped his bag to the floor, and the sound seemed to echo around the hallway.

"Dean." A deep voice said, somehow uncharacteristically worn. He almost hadn't recognized it. "You're home."

Dean wasn't sure how he did it, but he managed to face his father, and the face he saw was not one that he recognized. His dad looked exhausted, shattered, weary beyond anything he could imagine. There were dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his skin appeared almost grey in colour. Stubble covered his cheeks in his neglect of shaving, and, at a glance, Dean was sure he wouldn't have recognized him as the man who had raised him. The man that stood before him didn't look like his dad anymore. It was no secret that he had adored Alison, his only daughter, his whole universe. He was like him, Dean knew, he was asking himself why he hadn't protected her, he was blaming himself for whatever had happened to take the girl he should have saved from the world. His girl. His daughter. His baby. The weight of the loss glistened in his eyes, somehow duller than they usually were, and slumped his shoulders. But Dean tried to ignore that, as if dismissing it meant that he didn't have to face what was really going on around him.

"Hey, Dad." he answered simply, but he found his voice was little more than a whisper. Maybe he should have asked how he was, how his mother was, but he couldn't, because he was afraid of the answer he might get. He needed to know what had happened to his sister, that had been the only thought on his mind since he had found out that she was gone. He needed to know why he was home, and, more importantly, why she wasn't. "What happened, Dad?"

His dad sighed, heavy, as though he had been both expecting and dreading the question to come. "We don't know much, Dean." he said, remorseful. "She was shot."

" _Shot_?!" His eyes were wide, and it felt as though the air had been knocked right out of his chest. That wasn't an accident, and suddenly everything seemed to change. He was angry, confused, and, for the most part, he felt even worse. He had tried imagining the million things that could have happened to her on the way home. Maybe it had been a car crash, something horrible in the universe that had been out of anyone's control. Maybe he could have accepted that. But, being shot? That wasn't fate, that wasn't just her time. Someone had _done_ that _to_ her. It confirmed his darkest fears, someone had hurt his little sister, and where had he been to protect her? Why hadn't he been there? "Where?" he demanded, he needed to know more. "When? By who?" He paused, searching his father's face for some kind of answer. "Dad, _what_?"

His dad took another deep breath, and it was only then that Dean realized how truly haggard he looked. It was as though he was struggling to keep it together, and he didn't want to imagine how many people he'd had to tell. "Like I said, we don't know much." he told him, apologetic, and, in that moment, Dean knew he blamed himself. "She didn't come home one day, we called the police, few days later they found her body." He paused. "In Missouri."

Dean frowned. "Missouri?" He didn't understand. "Why was she in Missouri?"

His dad scoffed. "You tell me." he said, pulling a rough hand down his face. "She was supposed to be in Nebraska. Her friends came home, she didn't. Turns out, she'd never been with them in the first place. She never had. I don't know what she was doing there, I just..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I just don't know, Dean."

Dean sighed, and, right there, he knew. His sister had broken the promise she had made to him, or, at least, the promise he had tried to make her give. Maybe he had been too quick in heading back. Maybe he should have stayed home, because he had known, deep down, he had known that she'd do it again. That was who she was, and he knew she didn't have it in her to ignore that job. There was so much more he could have done to stop her, but he'd been naive in trusting her to be okay, and he knew, a part of that had been more for his own piece of mind and sanity than anything else.

"Did she say anything to you?" His dad asked him, dragging him back from his thoughts.

The question took him by surprise. "What?"

"Alison." he confirmed. "Did she say anything to you? About anything?"

Dean regarded his question for a long moment. He thought about saying something, maybe it would help them to understand, maybe they would understand her more, maybe they could make sense of her actions in a way that he just couldn't, but where would he even start? He couldn't do that to them, or to her. Not now. He wasn't sure his father could take hearing something like that from him.

Reluctant, and against everything in him, Dean shook his head. "No." he lied. "Nothing I can think of." He glanced up at him, seeming far off in his own thoughts. "Where's mom?"

John nodded in the direction of the living room, and Dean turned towards it. He didn't know what to do, what to say, what to think, because he had never seen his mother look the way she did right there. He was almost knocked back a step, and he felt something break inside him. She looked wrecked. Broken, shattered, devastated. There weren't words for how she looked. She sat on the couch, her legs pulled up towards her chest, and she stared at the wall ahead, unseeing, never blinking. She still wore her pajamas and dressing gown, her hair was a mess, and her face was almost void, as though there was no one in there anymore. There was a photo frame clutched to her chest, and he just knew it was a picture of his sister that she clung to.

"Mom?" he said, his voice soft, so not to startle her.

It took a long moment for her to react, and he wasn't all that sure she had heard him. Her head turned the slightest bit, as if just to confirm that someone was there, and she glanced up to him. Somehow, he wasn't sure how she did it, she managed a small, shaky smile. "Dean."

He nodded. "How you doing, Mom?"

Mary shook her head slowly, and he saw the tears well up in her eyes. Slowly, apprehensive, he moved to sit beside her on the couch. "I just... I don't understand." she choked back a sob, turning from him. "I don't understand, what was she doing in Missouri?" She wiped a hand at her face, hiding any evidence that there had been tears. "This is my fault." she concluded, her voice harsh. It was a tone he didn't recognize. "I should have known. I should have realized she wasn't telling us the truth."

"Mom," Dean tried, helpless, he didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to comfort her. "This isn't your fault."

But she shook her head, she wouldn't accept that. "She's my _daughter_ , Dean." she said, little more than a whisper. "I should have known there was something going on with her, I should have known from the minute she started going away for those weekends. Something changed in her. She never came back the same. And I never did anything about it." She sniffed, looking down at the picture she held. It was of Alison, taken somewhere he didn't even remember. She stood in the sun, smiling brightly, and he could have sworn that right there she looked like an angel. She looked so happy, so carefree, and Dean realized that was the look he had missed. He hadn't seen that look in her face once since she had started doing what she did. "What could have been so bad that she couldn't tell us what she was doing? Why would she lie to us?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth, struggling for words. He wasn't sure what he could say to her. He knew she deserved answers, she deserved to know the truth, if only so she could stop blaming herself for what had happened, but how could he tell her something without telling her _everything_? There was so much about it that even he didn't understand, and he knew he needed answers, ones that his family, that the police, just wouldn't be able to find. He knew his sister better than anyone, he needed to be the one to find them.

Unsure of what else he could do at that point, Dean leaned over and placed a kiss to his mother's cheek. The action seemed to take her by surprise, but she found a smile come to her face. She reached out for his hand and squeezed it softly. "I'm so glad you're home, Dean." she said, her voice sincere, and he truly did believe her.

He nodded. "Yeah, me, too." he agreed. "I, uh, I think I need to get some air."

"Yeah," Mary nodded, because she understood, and she gave his hand another reassuring squeeze, maybe to let him know that she was there, maybe to remind herself that he was there, Dean wasn't sure. "Okay, honey. Just, please don't go far. And be careful."

"Course."

* * *

 _12:48PM_

Dean walked and he walked, just trying to make sense of the world around him. But, he found, _nothing_ made sense anymore. He didn't know where to go, or what to do with himself, or who to call. His legs were simply moving in no direction, and he was simply following them. A part of him had almost pulled out his phone to call Alison, and that was when he realized, it hadn't even sunken into his head yet, he hadn't accepted it. And he wasn't sure that he could. He didn't want to, and he sure as hell wasn't prepared to. He wasn't ready for a world without her in it. He didn't think he ever could be.

As he walked, his eyes fell to a family crossing the street. There was a little girl, holding hands with her brother, the same way he and Alison had used to cross the street. They were young, no older than five or six, and he found himself wondering if they were twins. They knew no evil in the world, not like him and his sister had, they had their whole lives ahead of them, the way his sister should have had. He felt a pain in his chest at the thought, he was never going to know her, he was never going to see what she could have done with her life, where she would end up, who she would become. His dad was never going to see his only daughter get married, his mom was never going to see her have a daughter of her own, Sam was never going to see her smile again. How was any of that fair? How was he supposed to accept any of that? At what point did he sit down and say okay, this is what life will be from now on.

"Dean!" A voice called from somewhere behind him, pulling him back from his thoughts.

It took him a long moment to even react to his name being called, and he had to blink to realize where he was. He was sure that he didn't recognize the voice. He turned, curious, and noted the young girl walking towards him. Her blonde hair shone in the sun, and she was dressed so much like his sister it was almost scary. _Chloe_. Alison's best friend. The girl who had spoken to him that day outside of the diner, the one who confirmed his suspicions that his sister had been up to something. She was the whole reason he had followed her to Ohio. There was a soft frown on her face, and it was clear that she had been recently crying.

He offered her a smile. "Hey."

"I was just at your place." she said, and as she spoke he noticed the black mascara smudged beneath her eyes. "Your dad said you were on your way home. I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean only nodded, because what more could he do? He wasn't ready for the bombardment of people apologizing for his loss, not when he was yet to accept it had even happened. "Thank you."

"I just can't believe it, you know?" She sighed, shaking her head. "Look, I hate to ask you this, but did you ever find out what was going on with her?" The question took him by surprise, and he wasn't sure how to answer it. "I had to tell them. Your mom asked, the police were involved, I couldn't lie to her, Dean, she was _so_ upset... Did you ever find out where she was going?"

Dean opened and closed his mouth again, clueless. He couldn't tell her. That much he knew. He couldn't tell anyone. Because something had just dawned on him. Alison was lying, she was _always_ lying. She was sneaking around. And just because something had happened in Missouri, that didn't mean she had really been killed. Maybe, just maybe, they were _all_ missing something. Maybe there was something that none of them had picked up on yet, something that only Alison knew.

"Uh, you know what, I really need to get home." He took a step back from her, only one thought in his head. "I'm sorry."

And, with that, he turned and ran.

* * *

 _01:29PM_

Dean paused outside of Alison's room. He wasn't sure why, there was just something that felt so wrong about the whole situation. She couldn't really be gone, not really, not Alison, he couldn't accept that. And, until he had proof, he wouldn't. Quietly, as though not to disturb the silence, Dean opened the door to her bedroom and stepped inside. It was clean, as though no one had ever lived there, and he frowned a little. He remembered what she had always used to say to him, _no one likes to come home to a messy room, Dean_. He sighed as he looked around, it all seemed so familiar, yet it felt like a lifetime since he had been in there.

He remembered when he and Alison had camped out in there to watch movies all night together, eating junk food and not realizing how late it was until their mother knocked on the door to wake her for school, and he found a smile on his face at the memory. There was a pain in his chest at just the idea of it all being over. He could almost see her sitting at the dresser and doing her make up, or sitting on her bed reading a book. It all felt surreal. How could something so horrific happen to someone like her? There were murderers and rapists and abusers living in that world, why did his little sister have to be the one to leave it so soon? What did she ever do to anyone?

His eyes fell to one of the photos sitting on her dresser, and he gave a soft sigh as he took a seat there. It was of him and her. He could barely remember where or when it had been taken, but they both looked so happy, so natural, laughing at a joke long forgotten, as though they didn't have a care in the world. It was before he had ever gone away, before she had known the true evil in the world, when they had both been just silly teenagers and the biggest worry they had was making it to Math class on time. Truthfully, he missed those days. He missed his sister. He missed his whole family. And he knew that they'd never be the same again.

He opened the top drawer of her dresser, not even sure what he was expecting to find, and pulled out a large book. For a second he was unsure of what it was, but then he realized, he remembered her opening it one morning on Christmas Day. It had been a gift from one of her friends. He opened the photo album, and smiled at the picture on the first page. It was of him and his brother and sister, standing in the kitchen of their home, all dressed for school. The picture looked so innocent, so calm, and, yet, the way he remembered it being taken was anything but that.

 _Seven years earlier_

 _Mary glanced over her shoulder at her youngest son. He sat at the table eating his breakfast, his eyes flicking between the bowl of cereal in front of him and the book he had propped up behind it. Every now and again he would put down his spoon and replace it with a pen, scribbling things down in the notebook beside his orange juice. She smiled a little and glanced towards the clock on the wall. "Where are your brother and sister?" she asked him, conscious of the time._

 _Sam opened his mouth to answer her, but, before he could get a single word out, a loud crash came from the floor above. There was the distinct sound of shouting, fighting, and then loud footsteps as the two of them bombarded down the stairs, as if racing each other to the bottom. They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the kitchen, standing side by side as if already expecting their mother to tell them off._

 _Mary looked between them slowly, eyebrows raised. "What's going on?" She wasn't sure why she asked, she always regretted it._

" _She takes forever in the bathroom, Mom." Dean complained._

" _Dean, you have a mirror in your own room, why do you have to spend half an hour doing your hair in the bathroom one?" she retorted, matching his tone easily._

 _Dean scoffed. "Oh, I was not in there for half an hour."_

" _Uh, newsflash, you totally were."_

 _Dean groaned, exasperated. "Why the hell does it even matter?" he argued. "You have a mirror in your own bedroom, too. You should know, you spend most of your time looking in it. Why can't you paint your face in that one?"_

 _Alison forced a laugh, sarcastic. "Oh, real funny. Some people like to have a shower in the morning beside you, Dean."_

" _Yeah, well, some of us like to have a shower with hot water, which is why I go in before you do." he snapped. "At least you can have one without someone banging on the door like an impatient brat."_

 _She rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe if you dragged your lazy ass out of bed a bit earlier it wouldn't be such a rush for you, would it?"_

 _Dean opened his mouth, and she raised her eyebrows, as if to say she had him beat. "You're so annoying." he remarked._

 _Mary looked between them, holding back a smile. "That's enough." They both opened their mouths to argue, but she held up a hand before either had the chance to speak. "Both of you."_

" _The girl drives me insane." Dean muttered, in way of argument, but his mother only smiled._

" _Oh, shut up." she complained. "For once in your life, Dean."_

" _It's a rare occasion I get a word in when you're around." he countered. "On and on and on and on."_

 _Instead of response, Alison punched him in the arm, and he only shoved her back. "OW! Mom, would you tell that thug to stop punching me?" she whined._

 _Mary sighed. "Dean, please don't hit your sister." she said, automatic._

" _Wha-" She smiled at him, smug, and his mouth fell open. "You are so dead."_

" _Hey." Their mother turned to them, warning. "What did I just say? One morning without you two fighting, is that too much to ask?"_

 _Dean and Alison sighed. "Sorry, mom." they muttered._

 _Mary gave a short laugh, shaking her head at them. The second her back was turned, Dean elbowed her hard in the ribs, at the same time Alison punched him in the arm. "First day back at school, please, both of you, try and behave yourselves."_

" _We always behave ourselves." Dean commented, his face the picture of innocence._

 _A snicker came from the doorway behind them as their father walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, it's just the trouble that seems to follow the two of you, right?" he quipped, a knowing look on his face._

 _Dean nodded in agreement. "Exactly."_

" _We're the real victims here." Alison added._

Dean found himself smiling at the memory, but, as he lifted his hand to turn to the next page, something caught his eye, something in the top drawer of her dresser. He'd missed it before, but it was clear as day to him now. It was the journal he had seen in the woods, the one he hadn't wanted to open. Her diary. He wasn't sure why he did what he did, he didn't know if it was a sense of denial or just plain curiosity, but he opened the book with a frown, and he barely noticed how his hands were shaking as he did. As he expected, her handwriting filled every page. It was neat, as though she always took her time with it.

This was wrong, so wrong, he thought. But he needed to know more. He needed answers, closure, hope, anything.

 _So, I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to write in here. Mom thinks it's a good idea, I'm not so sure. Maybe she's right, maybe I have been a little down lately, but is that not normal? I miss my brother. Saying goodbye to Dean is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. It's hard to imagine a life where he isn't around every single day. Maybe I took him for granted while he was home, or maybe I just didn't realize how good of a brother, and friend, he was._

 _I lied to him, before he went, I told him I wasn't scared, that wasn't true. I am scared. I watch the news, I know what's going on over there, and I know where he is. Everything about what he's doing scares me. But, despite that, and no matter how much I'm going to miss him, or how hard it's going to be waiting on him to come home, I've never been prouder of anyone in my life before._

Dean blinked, hard. It felt wrong reading it, and, he knew, she'd be there to punch him in the back of the head should she know what he were doing, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know more. He needed to understand her, the way he always thought he had. Alison had been so much more complicated than he had ever realized, it was like she had lived a double life, and he only saw the tip of the iceberg with it. He flipped a few pages and stopped again.

 _I know what I need to do. It makes sense now. Everything that happened last weekend makes sense. There are things out there in this world with us, evil things, and someone needs to take care of them. Someone needs to stop them. Dean saves people every day of his life. He risks everything to make a safer world for us to live in. Maybe this is how I can make a change, too. Maybe if I can show just a tiny bit of bravery, the way Dean shows every day of his life, I can save someone, I can make the world a better place, the same as he does._

 _And, I wish I could tell him. I wish I could tell mom and dad, or Sam. I hate sneaking around, I hate lying to them, but they wouldn't understand. How could I expect them to understand something like this? Something I still don't understand myself. They'd think I was insane, that I'd lost it, and I couldn't put them through that. For now, at least, it needs to stay a secret._

Dean thought for a moment. This was Alison's diary. She wasn't afraid of what she wrote in there. She didn't hold anything back, there were no secrets she wouldn't put in there. And that was when his heart skipped a beat. He flipped ahead to the end, to the last entry.

 _I know Dean wanted a promise from me that day he left. He wanted me to promise him that I wouldn't take another hunt while he was gone, and I understand why, but how am I supposed to ignore it when people are dying? How am I supposed to go to work and get coffee and see movies when I know there are people suffering out there? When I know I'm the only one who can stop it. There's a monster in Missouri, and I've pretended for long enough that it's not there, but more and more people are dying, there's no one stopping this thing. So I need to do it._

Dean frowned. "So, she did go to Missouri." he muttered. He closed the book and placed it back into her dresser. "Where are you, Ali?"

A horrible thought came to him. Her body had been found in Missouri, the body his mother had identified. What if it really had been Alison? Maybe it _was_ all real. Maybe whatever she had gone up there to hunt had gotten a hold of her first. He shook his head slowly as he sat back in the chair. No. He couldn't start thinking like that. He refused to believe it. Because they had promised each other, goodbye wasn't forever. At least, he prayed that was still true. But, he had to admit it, it wasn't looking good for his sister. He had to move. He had to find her, he had to find out what happened to her, if she was alive, before it was too late.

He had to find the truth.


	18. In This Together

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter, and to those of you who have PM'd me! Always love to hear from you guys!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Eighteen: In This Together**

 _Lawrence, Kansas - Home - 02:13PM_

With a new found sense of determination and the willingness to believe, even against all smarter senses, that his little sister might still be out there somewhere, Dean headed down the stairs. He had left her bedroom the way he had found it, as if in the back of his mind he somehow expected her to come home and realize that someone had been rooting through her things. There were a thousand and one different thoughts bombarding themselves through his mind, all at once, so fast that he couldn't even hope to keep up with them. They were loud, relentless, and it almost felt like a screaming headache pounding against his skull. But he worked to ignore it. He didn't know what to think, what to feel, which of the thoughts to believe. He had no plan and no real sense of what was happening around him anymore. It was a blur. He bypassed the living room, unable to go back in there. He couldn't face his parents again, not looking the way they did. It was too much. He couldn't sit and listen to them plan a funeral for a girl he wasn't even sure was gone.

A part of him knew that he was clutching at straws, and that he was probably eyeball deep in denial. He was more than aware that he should have been grieving with his family, feeling sorrow for the loss of his best friend and sister, but he couldn't allow those feelings to enter, he couldn't acknowledge them, because he couldn't accept that they were even real. He just couldn't swallow the thought that she was really gone. And he wouldn't. Not until he was sure.

Dean knew something about Alison that no one else in that house did. And that was enough reason for him to take the chance on her. He had to find out for himself where she had been, and what she had been doing. Because maybe there was a chance that she was still out there somewhere, and maybe she needed his help. It was a small chance, and he wasn't naive about it. Things weren't looking good for her, but even the smallest chance of hope was enough for him. The smarter part of him knew that he was going out on a whim, but he couldn't just sit around and accept the fact that the best person he had ever known was gone forever. Didn't he owe her more than that? Maybe a year ago he would have, but she had taught him that the world wasn't black and white, and that sometimes there was far more to a situation than they could see. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something.

It was as Dean entered the kitchen that something hit him like a punch to the face, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes fell to his brother and he realized, he hadn't even known that he was home again. A pang of guilt ran through him, because he hadn't bothered to call, to even ask his parents where he was, or how he was. It hadn't even entered his head. Sam had been a large part of his thoughts on the journey home, but once he had stepped through the front door, once he had spoken to his father, once he had seen the distraught state of his mother, everything had left him.

Sam stood at the kitchen counter, staring of the window ahead, not at anything in particular, he just stared. He looked vacant, and, even from where he stood in the doorway, Dean could tell that he had been crying. His eyes were reddened, and he looked as though he hadn't slept in days. He appeared too lost, troubled, too absorbed in his own dark thoughts to realize he was no longer alone. What was he supposed to say to him? How was he supposed to tell him what he thought to really be true? Did he tell him at all? Because how was he supposed to explain everything he knew about their sister to him? He wasn't stupid, he was more than aware of how it sounded, but something trusted in Sam to believe him. Or to at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

In the end, Alison had gotten through to him. She had made him understand a world he hadn't even known existed, and maybe he could do the same with his brother.

Sam was one of the few people in the world that Alison really trusted, and he knew she wouldn't begrudge him telling their brother the truth about her. Alison had never been afraid to show Sam her darker side. He had seen the side of her that wasn't always happy, the side where she didn't always forgive. He had seen her cry, he had seen her at her lowest, and she would trust him with her secrets. If there was anyone he could share what he knew with, it was his brother. And a part of him knew that Alison would have said the same thing.

"Hey, Sammy." he said, his voice was soft, so not to disturb the heavy silence that seemed to loom over the whole house. It was empty and absorbing, like a cloud of darkness hanging over them. It took a moment for him to react, but his brother looked up and gave him the smallest nod of acknowledgement. He said nothing. "How you doing, bro?"

Again, Sam took a while to react. He sighed, turning to look at him properly, and he shrugged, heavyhearted. "I can't believe she's gone, Dean." he admitted quietly. He sounded so young, so vulnerable, so miserable.

Dean nodded, as if to say that he understood, but he didn't. It was in these moments, when the darkest and most unthinkable things happened, that Sam looked to his brother for strength, for answers, but Dean couldn't offer either. He couldn't help Sam understand something he was yet to understand himself.

"Sammy," Dean sighed, his heart broke for his brother, for the look of devastation that shone in his eyes, and he knew he had to say something. "Listen, there's something I need to talk to you about, and I need you to hear me out." He paused, choosing his words carefully. His voice lowered dramatically to ensure his parents wouldn't hear what he was about to say. "I don't think she's dead."

Sam's entire face fell at his words. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and, for a moment, he was sure that he had heard him wrong. They had all been worried about how Dean would take the news of his little sister's death. They were close, they were best friends, Alison had been his entire world, because there wasn't one of them without the other, but this was something they could _never_ have anticipated. Sam was afraid. " _What_?"

"Sammy," Dean persisted, his voice was pleading, begging him to hear him out. "Please, I know how it sounds. Just, go with me on this. She's alive. Alison's alive."

But Sam wasn't comprehending what was being said to him. He shook his head slowly, remorseful, sorrowful. He couldn't take it. It was a conversation that he just couldn't have. "Dean, I know it's hard—"

"No. You don't understand," Dean took a step closer to him, his voice strong, hard, determined, just the opposite of how he felt. But he needed to make him understand. "Alison did stuff. And, I mean, not... _normal_ stuff. There are things out there, and—"

"Dean." Sam stopped him, holding up a hand, it was going too far. He was more than confused, well past concerned, and he knew the smartest thing he could do at that point was tell his parents how hard his brother was taking it. But he didn't. Dean looked more than certain of whatever he was trying to say, and he knew he really believed himself, but he couldn't listen to it. He noticed, there was no sign of emotion in his face. There was no loss, no sadness, it was as though the news hadn't even affected him, like it hadn't sunken into his head yet. He hadn't fully realized what had happened, he hadn't accepted it yet. "You're not making any sense. Just think about what you're saying. Alison's gone. And, I know it's awful but—"

"Look," Dean snapped, quickly growing impatient, but even he thought his tone was a little too forceful. He wasn't going to stand there and let his brother council him into accepting their sister's death. He knew how it sounded, and he was more than aware that Sam probably thought he had gone off the deep end, but he had said too much to back out now. "I can't make you understand this, and I don't have the time to stand here and explain it to you. I just need you to trust me."

Sam sighed deeply. He didn't know what to say. "Dean—"

" _Please_." Dean practically begged him, desperate. "Please, Sammy, I need your help here, man."

Sam regarded him for a long moment, and hazel eyes found green. He didn't look convinced at all, in fact, Dean was pretty sure he had no faith in the idea of their sister being alive whatsoever. How could he? Sam had been there through the police visits and the search for her, he had probably been there when the police had confirmed her death. He had more than likely seen his parents break down over the news. How could he expect him to believe there was a hope of her being alive? But, after a long moment, and to Dean's surprise, he nodded. It was clearly reluctant, but it was there. "Okay." he caved. "What do you want me to do?"

Sam noted how Dean's features seemed to relax a little. Maybe this was how he could help Dean. Maybe he just had to go along with it. Maybe he just needed to help his brother comprehend what had happened. Dean was clearly in denial, as though he hadn't faced the horrible reality of what was going on around them. He was desperately searching for something to take it all away, to change it, he hadn't faced the fact that, no matter how much they wished it was different, Alison wasn't coming home. And the only way to ensure that Dean got through it was to go through it with him. He had to do this for his brother.

But the look of relief was more than evident in his face, and he nodded, thankful. "We need to go to Missouri." Dean stated, and if the words hadn't been so clear Sam would have been sure he had misheard him.

His stomach dropped, and he knew then that he'd made a mistake in agreeing to help him. That was something he couldn't do. And he couldn't imagine why his brother would want to go there, either. He couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on in his head, but he was worried, more worried than he had ever been about him. "Why would you want to go there?" he asked, frowning. "Dean, you know that's where they found her, I mean, how—"

"Sam." he stopped him before he could talk himself back out of it. "Just—"

"Trust you?" Sam shook his head. "Is that what you're going to ask? No, Dean. No. This is going too far. I get that this is hard, _believe me_ , I know. But we can't go anywhere. We can't leave mom. She's just lost her daughter, I mean—"

"Sam, I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible. If you don't come with me, mom really is going to lose her daughter, do you hear me? Dad is going to lose his daughter, and you are going to lose your sister." Sam looked a little taken aback, by his harsh tone or his disturbing words, Dean wasn't sure. " _Please_ , I need you to do this for me." Sam opened and closed his mouth to protest, but he didn't get the chance. "I know you think I've lost my mind, and I know you're probably thinking I'm in some kind of denial, but I'm not. I know what's real. I know things about Alison, things that no one else knows, and I can't tell you right now what those things are, but, believe me, what I know about her is enough for me to know that she could still be out there somewhere. And I can't take the chance of just letting her go. She could be in real trouble right now, Sammy, she needs us."

Sam frowned, trying to register his words. "Dean, if you know something, we need to tell mom and dad." he urged. "They need to know if she's still alive somewhere. We need to tell the police."

" _No_." Dean shook his head. "We can't tell them. Not mom." But Sam didn't look sure. "Take one look at her, Sammy, you think she can take hearing something like this right now? Or dad? We need to do this alone, and we need to do it now. Please, Sam, I am begging you here. I need your help."

But he knew Sam wasn't fully on board. "And what if you're wrong, huh?" he pushed. "Then what?"

Dean shrugged, and he looked down for a moment, away from him. It was something he didn't want to think about, because, if he was wrong, that meant that Alison was gone, and it was a possibility that he didn't want to face. He thought for a long moment, and he looked back to face his brother. "Then I'm wrong." he accepted. "And, if I am wrong, if she really is gone, maybe we'll get some answers. Maybe we'll find out what really happened to her. And, I swear, if she _is_ gone, I'll find and murder the son of a bitch that hurt her myself."

Sam shook his head. Dean's tone was lethal, sincere, and he knew he meant every word. "Isn't that what the cops are for? You know they're looking for her killer. They'll find him, Dean, they—"

Dean scoffed. "Sam, the police don't know Alison." he snapped, all of his patience was gone. "We do. I know where to look, places they wouldn't ever think of."

His eyes narrowed. "Because you know this big secret about her?" he pressed, curious. "The one you can't tell me about?"

"Yes, actually." he confirmed. "Sam, Ali might be alive, why is that so hard to accept?"

Sam was silent for a moment, and he shook his head, looking out of the window. "You know something, Dean, I wanna believe you, I _really_ do. There is _nothing_ I want more than to see her walk through that front door again, but," He sighed, and something in his face changed. "I was here, you know. Mom called me, she asked me if I'd heard from her, said she'd been to one of those stupid college weekends and she hadn't come home, she wasn't answering her phone, I mean, she was _so_ worried. And, you know what I said to her? I told her she was fine, that she'd probably got caught up there or something, that she didn't need to worry, and I didn't think anything else of it. I mean, who the hell has college open weekends in November? We should have known that something was wrong, and I didn't even think." He sounded bitter, but with no one but himself. "And then dad called. He said they were putting out a missing persons on her, that her friends had come home and Ali had never been with them in the first place. That's when I came home. I walked into a house full of cops, they were in her bedroom, they were looking at photos, asking us if she had any enemies. I mean, like anyone could ever make an enemy out of Alison. They took down a description of her, it was serious." He sighed. "And then they came back. They told us that they'd found a body matching her description. Dad wanted to go, he said it over and over again, but mom said no. She said she had to do it. The look on her face when she came home, Dean, you can't even imagine it. That night, she screamed and she cried and she blamed herself, she was just..." He trailed off, there were tears in his eyes as he thought back, despondent. "You know I'd never seen dad cry before that night. You don't get it, you don't understand what it's been like. You didn't see them. And now you're asking me to believe that she's alive? After all of that? How am I supposed to believe that none of that was real?"

Dean looked away from him, tears shining in his own eyes. He had never seen his brother look the way he did there, it was as though a light had gone out inside him. The hurt consumed him. What he had seen had broken him, and Dean couldn't imagine for a second being in the situation he had. He wasn't sure he could have taken sitting there while the police raided his sister's room looking for clues, and it dawned on him then that was why it was so clean, their mother had been in there after them and tidied up, as if ready for her to come home. He couldn't imagine watching his parents fall apart right in front of him, unable to lift a finger to help. He wasn't sure he would have coped. And he knew that what he was asking of his brother was a lot, too much, but he had no choice. They needed to do it.

"Sammy, I'm sorry." he said softly, because what more could he say? "But, please, I know it's hard, and I know that you don't want to, but I need you to do this with me. _Please_. We don't have much time." His eyes searched his. "I need you."

"You know that one of us is wrong, don't you?" he said, his voice was soft, apologetic.

Dean nodded slowly. Everything was made clear by that comment. Sam believed she was dead, and he believed she was alive. All he could do was pray that he was right. "I know."

Sam saw the plea in his brother's green eyes, he saw the desperation and the fear, the determination and the stubbornness. He wasn't going to back down, and he knew right there that he truly believed his own words. He believed with everything he had that their sister was alive somewhere, what could he really say to argue? Dean had made up his mind, and he was going to carry out whatever plan he had with or without him. It didn't matter what he said, or what he did, there was no changing his mind. He couldn't leave him to discover the horrible truth alone, he knew he needed to be there when the world came crashing down around him, when he realized that she wasn't coming home. Dean was right, he needed him, but not for the reason he thought.

Hesitant, and against all better judgement, he nodded. "Okay."


	19. Broken Hope

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Nineteen: Broken Hope**

 _Missouri - 06:12 PM._

Things weren't going to plan. At all.

Dean came to an abrupt halt, unexpected enough to cause Sam to almost crash straight into his back. He stood with his hands on his hips, frustration evident in his face, and he looked up and down the street. He was lost. He didn't know what to do or where to go, the idea of finding his sister had seemed so much easier on the drive there. He couldn't seem to make his brain work, he couldn't think. What should have been the obvious solution just wouldn't come to him. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting to find there, whether he had ever had a real plan in his head, or whether he had assumed it would all just come to him once he was there, but he was stumped. He looked up and down the road once again, as if a new detail would jump out at him and present itself as the answer he was so desperately searching for, but there was nothing. At least, nothing he could see. The town was so normal, so boring, there was nothing out of the ordinary going on there that he could tell. He didn't even know what he was supposed to be looking for. He clearly wasn't the detective his sister had been. She had made it all look so easy, always knowing where to go and who to talk to, but he couldn't form a plan to save his life at that point.

"Dean," Sam sighed, he was trying to be patient, to let his brother realize the truth on his own, but that was easier said than done. How long was he supposed to let this go on for? He was wandering around a strange town in no real direction looking for their dead sister, just a mile away from where her body had been found. He was looking for clues and answers that Sam was sure didn't exist. He had to step in at some point. They needed to be home with their parents, not there. "Look, maybe we should head back." he offered, hesitant, because he already know how badly the suggestion would go down with him.

As he could have expected, Dean's only response was an impatient sigh. He was already struggling to keep a straight thought together, and his brother wanting to bail on the whole thing was only making it harder. "Sam, for the last time, I know what I'm doing." But they both knew that was nothing but a blatant lie. Sam opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't get the chance. He was pretty sure by now, Sam assumed he was having some kind of mental breakdown. "Quit looking at me like that, I'm not crazy, alright? There's something in this town, something we're missing, we just need to find it."

"I never said you were crazy." Sam replied, automatic. Struggling, yes. Knee deep in denial, no doubt about it. But, crazy? No. His voice was soft, understanding, and that was only spurring Dean's irritation further. "I just think we need to be at home. With mom."

Dean opened his mouth, more than ready to have the same argument they'd had before they had set off, but a voice stopped him.

"Hey, sorry, 'scuse me." The voice came from behind Sam, and they both turned, frowning between each other. A man approached them, and he didn't look to be much younger than they were, probably around the same age. He wore some dark jeans and a grey hooded jacket. His blonde hair was spiked and a duffel bag was hung over his left shoulder. Neither brother recognized him. "Are you guys from around here?"

Dean looked him up and down slowly, throwing him a distrustful stare. "Why?" he pressed. "Who are you?"

"Uh," The man seemed a little taken aback by his tone, and he blinked, as if debating with himself whether to continue, but he didn't back down. "I'm just looking for a friend of mine, she's missing." he persisted. "I was hoping maybe you'd seen her around."

Sam sighed, a little more commiserative, and he nodded. "Sorry man," he apologized, sincere. "What's she look like?"

Dean glanced up at his brother, one eyebrow raised. He wasn't even sure why he had bothered to ask, they had been in that town for little over an hour, what were the chances they had seen anyone around? How did they have the time to be searching for a stranger's friend when they were supposed to be looking for their own sister? But that was Sam, he was kind, he was sympathetic, and he knew, should his sister have been there with him, she would have asked the exact same thing.

The man before them seemed to relax a little, and he sighed in relief. The concern was clear in his features as he spoke about her, and it crossed Dean's mind that he was probably in the same boat as them, he probably felt the same fear and worry for his friend that they were feeling for their sister, and he regretted the tone he had used with him. "Uh, she's blonde, green eyes, pretty girl. Hold on," He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph, holding it out to them. Sam's face completely drained of colour, and Dean's stomach dropped at the sight.

Sam looked more than confused, perplexed, concerned, but, he noticed, Dean seemed to have more of an idea of what was going on. He didn't look surprised by the picture. "You're Dylan, right?" he asked, but he already knew the answer. He knew exactly who the man standing in front of them was, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Dylan's brows knitted together in confusion. "Uh, yeah." His eyes narrowed, studying him, as though to put a name to his face. "Do I know you?"

"No," Dean shook his head. "But, I think you know my sister." He nodded down to the picture in his hand. "You know Ali."

Dylan's face completely dropped at that, and a sense of realization visibly washed through him. "Oh. Did you say sister?" He nodded to himself. "Yeah, she told me about you. You're the one who's in the army, right? Dean?" His eyes flickered towards Sam. "Which makes you Sam. The Law student."

"Look," Dean held up a hand to silence him before he could continue, before his brother could even think up a response. He was impatient, and all he wanted was answers. "Let's cut the crap. I know what she did. I know what you taught her to do. Level with me here, is she really dead?"

"I don't know." Dylan told them, remorseful, apologetic. "I saw a news article online, said that she was, but," He shrugged. "I'm not so sure. I was actually tracking her here, which, I guess, if you're here, you're doing the same. I saw your mom had identified her body, so I went to take a look at it. Whatever body they have in that morgue, it's not human. I mean, it looked like her, identical, but it wasn't your sister."

Dean's heart skipped a beat, he had known it all along. If it wasn't Alison's body they had found, that meant she could still be out there somewhere. But Sam looked lost. He wasn't following, at all. "Wait," He frowned. "If that's not Alison's body, then whose body is it?" he asked, bewildered. He was more confused as to why his brother seemed to be following what was being said. They both seemed to know something that he didn't. Nothing they were saying made any sense to him.

"That thing in the morgue was a shifter." he told them. "Which makes sense, she called me the week before to say she was up here hunting one." But he could see now that even Dean seemed to be struggling to take in what he was being told. "These things, they can transform themselves into anyone, anything. And, when you kill them, they die looking like the last person they changed into. Which, obviously, was Alison. And I haven't heard of any other hunters being up here lately, so I'm guessing it was her that killed it. So, somewhere between taking out that thing and leaving town, she's gone missing."

"And then the cops found the shifter's corpse." Dean finished for him, and Dylan nodded. "They've matched the description of the body to the missing persons our mom put out on Ali, and she's identified her." He sighed, because he knew it wasn't good. Either she was alive out there and they had no clue where, or she was dead somewhere and they had no clue where. Either way, they were losing. "So, you think something has her? Or something killed her?"

"Honestly, man, I don't know." He threw them an apologetic look. "I wish I could tell you more. I don't know where she went after here, that's what I'm trying to find out. So far, I've met a couple of people who remember seeing her here, but it's not much."

Dean narrowed his eyes, interested, at that point he would take anything. "What'd you find?"

"Uh, old lady, said Alison helped her carry some groceries home for her, and a guy who served her in a bar. But no one I've met has seen her in at least a couple weeks." He shrugged. "For whatever that's worth." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pen, scribbling something down on the back of the picture he still held of Alison. "Here," He held it out towards Dean. "This is my number, give me a call if you need anything, if you find her. I'll keep tracking her, I'll let you know if I find anything."

He gave a short smile and turned to walk away.

"Hey," Dean stopped him before he could go anywhere. "Why do you care so much?" Dylan frowned, as if he didn't understand. "You spent like one weekend together, right? Why do you wanna find her so bad?"

The words stopped Dylan for a moment, and he smiled a little. "Because, your sister's a good kid, Dean. And she's a good hunter." He shrugged. "It might have just been one weekend, but that doesn't mean she didn't make an impression. I know why she's been doing this job. Some hunters, they want revenge, some of them are brought up in it and know nothing else, and some of them just like to take out monsters. But some of them really do wanna help. Your sister would drop everything to help someone, I'm sure you know that. Maybe it's time someone helped her out." He paused for a moment, and he narrowed his eyes. "How much did she tell you? About that weekend?"

Dean shook his head. "Not much." he admitted. "She just said you'd saved her from some ghost and she'd helped you get rid of it."

Dylan scoffed. "Figures." he muttered. "She did more than that. You sister saved my life that weekend. I showed her what I was doing, which, probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, and she went on her way. I thought that was the end of it. And then, I was in this graveyard, digging up a corpse, you know how it goes, and I got knocked out, out of the blue, she was there, I don't know how, or why, she just said she'd had a feeling." He smiled. "If it wasn't for her, I'd have been screwed. She didn't even know me, hell, she probably thought that I was crazy, and she risked everything to come and help me. That's why I wanna help her."

Dean frowned a little, taking in his words, and he nodded. "Thanks, man." he said genuine. "I appreciate it."

"Like I said, your sister is a good hunter." He offered them a reassuring smile. "I'm sure she's handling herself fine out there."

Dean tried to believe him, but he knew the odds were stacked against her. "Yeah, let's hope so."

Dylan nodded in agreement, and, with that, he turned to walk away, never looking back.

Dean watched him go, silent for a long moment, shifting the photograph of his sister between his fingers. Sam, however, frowned. He was more than confused, he was beyond perplexed, but he noticed his brother seemed to be thinking hard about something, almost as if he had understood anything that had just been said to him. They were talking about monsters, and hunting? What was that? What did it mean? And what had their sister been doing with that guy? What had Dean meant when he'd said he knew what he'd taught her to do? What had she been doing in that town? Was it all a part of the big secret Dean claimed to know about her? Why did Dean know who Dylan was? And why did he know them? Dean might have wanted answers, but so did he.

"What the hell was all that about?" he pressed. "What's a shifter? Who was he?"

"Doesn't matter." he murmured, his thoughts clearly miles away from there. "But it's just given me an idea. Come on."

Sam barely had the time to react, because Dean was already halfway across the street, determination in his stride. He jogged to keep up with him, wondering where they were going. He had no idea what was happening around him anymore, and the level of confusion only seemed to be increasing by the minute.

He looked up at the old, decrepit building before them. It was a motel, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going on in his brother's head anymore. He was past trying to understand, because he knew that he couldn't. What did he really expect to find there? Was he still considering the insane idea that their sister was alive? Was he still running on blind faith that the body their mother had identified hadn't really been her? How could she make that kind of mistake? How could she look at someone's body and believe that it was her daughter if it wasn't? There was no chance. So, why couldn't Dean see that? Why didn't he understand?

"Dean, what the hell are we doing here?" Sam hissed, his voice rushed as he followed him through the door into the office. "We cannot stay in this town. We need to go home."

"Shut up." Dean threw over his shoulder. "I know what I'm doing."

Sam seriously doubted it, but he said nothing. The last thing they needed was to get into a fight.

Dean crossed the office in three long strides. It was small, and Sam couldn't imagine anyone, especially his sister, wanting to stay there. The man behind the desk barely even glanced up from the newspaper in front of him as they approached, but his brother didn't seem concerned. "Hey." he said pointedly, and, reluctant, as if it took all his effort, the man looked up. "I was wondering if you've had a girl stay here the last few days? Blonde hair, nineteen. About 5'5."

The man narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious of them. Not that Dean really blamed him. "Who are you?" he asked, gruff.

Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam got there first. "We're her brothers." he said, and Dean groaned inwardly, that wasn't the story he'd been planning to go with. "We're just trying to find our sister. _Please_. Her name's Alison Winchester."

Something about Sam's face seemed to register with him, and, with a sigh, he pulled the large black book on the desk towards himself. His eyes scanned it quickly, and he shook his head. "Nope." he muttered. "No Alison Winchester."

Sam wasn't surprised, at all, and he turned, ready to leave, but Dean didn't budge. "What about an Ashley Scott? Or a Natalie Smith?" he pressed, and Sam found himself wondering what his brother knew that he didn't.

The man behind the desk raised an eyebrow. "Those your sister's, too?"

Dean smiled, and he took out his wallet, dropping a fifty dollar bill to the desk. "For the purpose of this conversation, yes."

Without breaking the eye contact Dean held with him, he picked up the money and placed it into the top pocket of his shirt. His eyes fell back to the book and his eyes once again scanned the page. "I got no Ashley Scott. But I got a Natalie Smith." he confirmed. "She was staying up in room twelve. Booked for the week, she's supposed to check out tomorrow. Asked not to be disturbed, can't tell you if she's still here or not, though."

"Right," Dean nodded, this was the break they'd been searching for. "Thank you."

And, with that, he turned to leave, Sam right behind him. The door hadn't even closed before he turned on him, expectant. "Who the hell is Natalie Smith?" he pressed. It was a name he had never heard before, and he couldn't even imagine who she was.

"Alison." Dean stated. "That's one of the names she used when she..." He paused, because now wasn't the time. "Doesn't matter. Come on."

Sam huffed in annoyance as his brother continued his way towards the room. He was getting irritated with the amount of answers he wasn't getting from him. Dean clearly knew something more than he was letting on. He knew something about Alison he wasn't willing to share. He couldn't even begin to imagine why his sister would be checking into motels in strange towns under fake names. And, more to the point, he didn't understand why Dean already knew the names of her aliases. What had been going on between them while he had been away at college?

Dean knocked loudly, impatiently, on the door of the motel, so hard that the brass numbers that indicated twelve rattled under the force. He waited a few seconds, barely enough time for anyone inside to even make it to the door, and he shrugged. "Guess nobody's home." he muttered. He glanced back over both shoulders, ensuring that no one, namely the man inside the office, was watching them, and he brought up his leg, effortlessly kicking the door open. The wood at the lock snapped, and it sent splinters flying in all directions.

Sam looked on at him, eyes blown wide, as if he couldn't believe what he had just witnessed. Honestly, he couldn't. "What are you doing?!" But Dean had already stepped inside, disregarding any concerns he had. Not only had they bailed on their grieving parents, they'd now broken into somebody's motel room. He could just imagine the wrath that should come should they have to call home and explain why they had been arrested. But, despite himself, he found himself following his brother. He pushed the broken door closed behind himself and turned to the room, frowning. The scene before him took him by surprise. Whether it had been their sister's room or not, something bad had gone down there. "Looks like there was a struggle." he commented. "Are you sure this was her room?"

Dean's eyes scanned it slowly, and he narrowed his eyes. His brother was right, there had definitely been some kind of fight in there. One of the chairs at the table was overturned, the large mirror on the wall was smashed right through the middle, as though someone had been thrown straight at it and glass littered the floor beneath it. There was a lamp smashed on the carpet, knocked from the table beside the unused bed, and he noticed how the covers seemed to have been pulled sharply at one of the corners, as if someone had tried to grab a hold of it but had been pulled away.

Curious, he took a step further inside, looking for something, anything, to indicate that his sister had been there. Just because there had been a struggle, it didn't necessarily mean that Alison had been involved, or so he hoped. There were a couple of coffee cups on the table beside some old papers, one of them still half full, and a pen was thrown down beside them as though whoever had been using it had suddenly stopped, maybe due to a knock on the door, he thought. It was evident that the bed had never been slept in, and the light was still on above them. There was a black hooded jacket draped over the back of the only chair that remained upright, and a dull thought reminded him that he had once owned one very similar, one that his sister had borrowed and never returned. None of that was what stood out at him, though.

Something else had caught his eye, something that confirmed his dark and unwanted suspicion that she had been there. He crouched down slowly, tentative, and picked up the silver locket that lay abandoned on the carpet. The clasp was snapped, as though it had been ripped from her neck, and he closed his eyes. He had never seen her without it before. She hadn't taken it off since the day he had given it to her. It had been the last day he had been at home, and her response had been simple when he had handed her the box; _shouldn't it be me giving you a going away present, since, you know, it's you leaving_. He turned it over and looked at the engraving on the back, four little words, _goodbye is never forever,_ and, at the time, he had thought it would always be true. It never occurred to him that day that there would come a time that they wouldn't see each other again. But now, he wasn't so sure.

 _Two years earlier — Lawrence, Kansas — Home._

 _Dean headed up the stairs, a small smile on his face as he headed down the hallway towards his sister's bedroom. Her door was open, the way it usually was, and he had learned in his time that there were only four real reasons she would ever close it; either she was changing, she was on the phone, usually to Chloe, she was sleeping, or she was in a really, really had mood. As he approached he saw her, sitting on her bed, her eyes scanning the pages of the book in her hands, and, from the position of it, he could already read the title, and he rolled his eyes._

" _You gotta stop reading books about serial killers, sis." he observed, coming to a stop at her doorway. "One day you're gonna turn into one, and I'm not so sure that you'd cope in prison. You know they don't get Netflix in there."_

 _"What makes you think I'd get caught?" she pondered, never looking away from the pages she seemed so engrossed in._

 _Dean chuckled. "Just a feeling." he quipped. "They always slip up eventually."_

 _Alison looked up at him with a smirk. "Well, if I were to become a serial killer, I hope you'd buy the book. I could sign it for you."_

 _Dean huffed a laugh. "You know I'm not one for reading." he commented. "I'd definitely watch the movie. I'm thinking Emma Watson to play you."_

" _Emma Watson?" Alison raised an eyebrow at him. "She looks nothing like me."_

" _No, she doesn't." he agreed. "But she is hot, and she's British, and it might be the only chance I get to take her out for a beer, so would you hurry up with your murder spree, please?"_

 _Alison regarded him for a long moment, amused. "You are one on your own, Dean Winchester." she muttered, closing the book and tossing it aside. "What do you want, anyway? Thought you were going out?"_

 _Dean smiled as he walked into her room, and she followed him with her eyes. "Something for you, first." he said, leaning against her dresser. "Little going away present."_

 _Alison huffed. "Shouldn't it be me giving you a going away present, since, you know, it's you leaving." Dean smiled, and he tossed her a black box, one that she caught easily. Her eyebrows raised, and he could tell when he had said going away present she had been expecting something stupid, probably a punch in the arm to leave her with a bruise. "What's this?" she pressed, curious._

 _Dean shrugged. "I don't know," he commented, sarcastic. "Open it, you'll find out." Alison glanced down at the box, and she opened it slowly. Her eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of the necklace there. It was a silver heart locket, and the tip of her finger touched it gently, turning it over. On the back, four little words were engraved; goodbye is never forever. "So, when you miss me, which you will because, you know, I'm awesome, you have something to remember me by."_

" _Wow, Dean." she commented, looking a little lost for words. "It's beautiful, thank you."_

" _Okay, let's not make a big soppy thing about it." he quipped. "But, you're welcome."_

Dean was dragged back from his thoughts by a sound behind him, and it was only then that he remembered he wasn't alone, and he remembered the question he had been asked minutes ago, the one he still hadn't answered. "Yeah, Sammy. It was her room." he said quietly, straightening himself up. "She was taken from here."

Walking further inside, something stopped him dead in his tracks. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he saw it, the thing that made him feel sicker than anything he had ever seen in his life. It was visible through the slightly ajar bathroom door, and he felt his stomach sink. Apprehensive, holding his breath, he pushed the door open a little further. He knew he didn't want to get a closer look, but, if she was in there, he had to find her. She took a short step into the bathroom and he grimaced. There was blood everywhere, it covered the white bathroom completely. It was splattered across the tiles on the wall and floor, and bloody water filled the bathtub and sink. There was no one in there, and he wasn't so sure if that was a good or bad thing. It looked like a murder scene. He didn't even want to think what had happened in there, or who it had happened to. Was he supposed to believe that his sister had something to do with it? Did he want to believe that? He glanced to the once white towels, now soaked with a deep crimson liquid and thrown to the floor, and he felt sick.

"Where are you, Ali?" he whispered to himself, shaking his head slowly. That was enough for him. He had seen enough.

The blood wasn't Alison's. It couldn't be. He needed to find her, because she couldn't be dead.

Could she?

The thoughts of doubt were creeping into his head, and he found that, this time, he couldn't just simply ignore them or will them away. He couldn't silence them. There was so much blood. There was no question that it had been her room, or that she had at least been involved in the fight that had taken place there. There was a feeling in his stomach that told him something was wrong, and he didn't know how to deal with it. Everything was finally sinking in, if she was dead, how was he supposed to live with it? Alison had been one of the very few things that had kept him going while he had been away, and, when things had gotten rough, when it was late at night and he found himself wondering if he could do another day there, she had been one of the main reasons he had managed to keep his sanity. Alison was the only person who he had been able to talk to about his time away, she was the only one he trusted in to make it seem better. She couldn't be gone, he needed her, more than he wanted to admit. But that amount of blood was impossible to ignore. Someone, or something, had died in that bathroom. He just prayed it hadn't been his sister.

"Dean?" The sound of Sam's voice made him jump, and he looked up to face him, startled. "Wha—"

But Dean slammed the bathroom door closed before he could get close enough to see anything inside. "Don't go in there." he warned, his voice was low, and it cracked slightly as he spoke. Sam frowned at him, questioning. " _Please_."

"Dean? What's going on?" he pressed, cautious, because he didn't like the look on his brother's face one bit. He looked shattered, despondent, and tears filled up in his eyes, threatening to fall. He looked helpless, defeated, and, more than that, he looked broken.

But Dean simply shook his head in response. "I don't know." he admitted, his voice was quiet, little more than a whisper.

For the first time since he had arrived home, he looked like someone who had lost someone they had loved.

Dean looked like a man who had just lost his little sister.

His back came into contact with the bathroom door, and he slid down it until he was sitting on the floor. His head fell forwards to rest against his hands, and he took a short, shaky breath. He really didn't know.


	20. Last Hope Of A Desperate Man

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twenty: Last Hope Of A Desperate Man**

 _Missouri - 07:34 PM._

Sam crossed the small motel room and took a seat in one of the chairs at the table, a little lost as to what to do with himself. There wasn't much that he could do. He knew they shouldn't be there, he knew that they needed be at home with their parents, but Dean didn't appear as though he was moving any time soon. He remained exactly where he was, sitting on the floor and leaning up against the bathroom door, as though guarding it. He had barely moved an inch in almost half an hour, miles away in thought, lost. Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know what he had seen in that bathroom, because, whatever it was, it had clearly disturbed him. It was evident in the way his face was still pale, and the look of utter horror that still glistened in his eyes. He looked like a broken man.

Dean wasn't sure what to think. He _couldn't_ think. The bathroom had looked like a murder scene, and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the image from his mind of Alison just lying on that floor, bloody and hurt and not moving. There had been blood everywhere, literally dripping from the walls, pooling on the floor, soaked right through the towels. What was he supposed to make of it? Was he supposed to ignore the fact it was more than likely his sister's blood in there? Was he supposed to hold onto the hope that she was still alive out there somewhere? After everything he had just seen? All signs pointed to her death, and maybe it was time to accept that. Maybe Sam was right, maybe he was in denial, maybe it was time they went home. He didn't want to face it, but maybe this time he had gone too far, he had been wrong, and it was time to turn back.

His thoughts were broken by the sound of shuffling papers, and he could almost hear his brother's brain working on overtime. His eyes flickered towards him, uninterested, and he noted his eyes scanning back and forth as he read whatever was in front of him. He looked confused, concerned, even. "Hey, was Ali writing a book or something?" he asked, so casual he could have been asking about the weather.

But the question took him by surprise, it was so out of the blue, so unexpected, and he looked up to him with a frown. "What?"

Sam shrugged, his eyes still fixed to the papers before him. "Just, she's got a lot of research here, that's all."

It took Dean's interest, and, for the first time in half an hour, he moved. "Research on what?" he pressed, pushing himself to stand.

Sam raised his eyebrows at him. "Vampires." he said, and Dean felt his stomach drop. "Didn't think vampires were her thing. She always said they were lame."

"Ali didn't hate vampires." Dean corrected him. "Ali hated twilight. Not enough blood." Sam quirked a brow, curious, and Dean gave the smallest of smiles. "She said she liked her monsters to be monsters. You know, she loved Dracula. And Blade."

"So, what?" Sam pushed. "Was she planning to write her own script? Some of this stuff is pretty gruesome."

Dean picked up one of the overturned chairs and took a seat at the table with him. He picked up a few of the papers and looked over them slowly, not sure what he expected to find. He had seen them before, he recognized them. But, what did that mean? Did it mean anything? Alison was there to hunt a Shapeshifter, wasn't she? So what was she doing with all the research on vampires? Unless, she had found something else. He turned over another paper and something fell from it, a small scrap of paper. His eyes went wide.

"Sam," he urged, all but shoving the paper towards his brother's chest. "Look at this."

Sam took it from him with a frown. "It's a bill." he stated, uninterested, as though he didn't understand the sudden alarm.

"Yeah, but look at it." he insisted, eyes remaining wide, the look of urgency never faltering.

Sam sighed, his eyes returning to the paper in his hand. "Coffee, candy bar, newspaper, The Notebook?" He frowned, and he glanced to the book lying on the table pointedly. "Pack of bandages, and a six pack of beer." he read aloud, but he wasn't understanding, at all. "So, what? Doesn't mean anything."

"Look at the date, Sam." Dean pushed, impatient. "You're supposed to be the college kid, dude, work it out. This stuff was bought _after_ her body was found. Dylan was right, it's not her in that morgue."

"Dean," Sam shook his head, at a loss. "This doesn't prove anything. Anyone could have bought this stuff, doesn't mean it's Alison. I mean, since when does Ali read the newspaper? Huh? Especially in a town she's never even visited before. Why would she be buying beer? And, more to the point, when has Alison ever sat down and read a Nicholas Sparks novel? Everything she reads is about serial killers and murder."

"She reads them all the time." he admitted. "You know, before I left, she made me sit there with her and watch some stupid movie with that Disney Chick about sea turtles and doomed love because she'd read a Nicholas Sparks book. This stuff is hers, and that means the body they found isn't."

Sam looked down for a moment, trying to take in what he was being told. But his mind seemed far away from the scrap of paper in his hand. He looked hurt, disheartened. "You know, I always thought I knew my sister so well, but," He sighed, saddened. "I'm starting to think I didn't really know her, at all. It's like every day since she's been gone I'm learning stuff about her, like she lived a whole other life outside of the one we knew."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I get that. Look, when I found out, I thought she was high, or wasted, or losing her mind. But this is Alison. I _know_ it's her."

"And, even if it is, why the hell would she have all this stuff about vampires?" he pressed, perplexed. "Why would she care?"

"Because they're real, Sam. And I bet you anything that's what has her." He looked back to the newspaper, because he knew his brother was right, she wouldn't have bought it simply to read. And, right there on the page open was a red circle around one of the articles. "Says here there were some murders next town over, bodies found drained of blood. I'll bet any money she came here to hunt that shifter, and then she found this. That's why she didn't come home. That's why she never checked out. She's still here, Sammy. She never tried to go home again. She was gonna stay and hunt these things down. They must have gotten the jump on her, that's why mom never heard from her, that's why she called the cops, and then they tracked her up here and found that dead shifter. They thought it was over, they thought they'd found her body, so they stopped looking. It all makes sense." He spoke quickly, barely taking a breath, and Sam was struggling to keep up with him. He couldn't even pretend like he was following.

"How does any of this make sense, Dean?" He pulled a hand down his face, shaking his head. "This is _insane_. How are you still going along with any of this?"

"Because this is what we've been looking for, Sam." he said, his voice low, serious. "You need to trust me. I know we can find her."

"Alison is _dead_ , Dean." Sam blurted out. He hadn't meant to, but it was time his brother faced the truth. It was horrible, it was insensitive and it was harsh, but things were getting ridiculous, he needed to see it. He needed to understand. "Mom identified her body. They're at home planning her funeral. A receipt from a store and a motel in a fake name doesn't prove anything. I know it's awful, but, Dean, it's true. And it's time we went home."

Dean looked down, and for a moment Sam dared to hope that some sort of reality was sinking in. But when his eyes raised to face him they were hard, dark. "You heard that guy." he persisted, maintaining his stoic front. "There are things in this world that aren't human. I mean, we're talking about our sister being alive here, Sam, why can't you just have a little faith? Why are you so against the idea?"

Sam scoffed, incredulous. "You think I'm against the idea of Alison being alive?" He sounded outraged, offended. "Dean, I would give _anything_ to see my sister again. But, this? Chasing around after monsters that don't exist, making up stories that she's been taken by vampires? It's insane. And I'm not gonna buy into the hope that she's still alive when I know I'm just gonna lose her all over again. None of this is real."

"Yes, it is." he replied simply. "I've seen it for myself."

"You've seen a vampire?" Sam raised his eyebrows, dubious. How far was he really willing to take it?

"No, but I've seen other stuff with her." He sighed, desperate. "Please, Sammy, _please_. I need your help. I know she's out there somewhere. I can feel it." He looked away for a moment, and his face changed. "I can't lose her."

Sam was sympathetic, he was, but he couldn't take anymore. He couldn't keep going along with this. "Dean—"

"Don't do it for me." he stopped him. "Do it for Alison. You back out now and you're gonna regret it for the rest of your life, Sam. You'll always have that voice in the back of your head, what if Dean was right? What if Ali really was out there somewhere and we just left her? Are you telling me that you can live with that? Because I can't." Sam said nothing, but he could tell that he was listening, he was thinking hard over something. "Look, we'll check it out, and, if I'm wrong, we'll go back home. I promise. But we need to do this. You know we do."

Sam nodded, reluctant. "Okay, alright. Fine." He nodded. "What do we do?"

Dean looked around the room slowly, shaking his head. "I got no clue." he admitted.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Face it, Dean, even if you are right about this, we have no idea what we're doing here." he told him. "If Alison's out there somewhere, if she's in danger, if someone _has_ hurt her, we need to tell the cops."

But Dean shook his head, he wouldn't even consider it. "We can't go to the cops." he warned. "Not about Ali."

His eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Why?"

"Because, for one, if she's alive and she found out, she'd probably punch me in the face for it. And," He paused, he didn't know what to tell him. "Look, we just can't, okay? We can't be sure what she's been doing in this town, and if she's done something—"

" _Something_?" He frowned. "You're talking about her like she's been breaking the law." It was supposed to be a joke, a lighthearted comment, but the look on his brother's face never changed, and he knew. "Oh my god."

"What would we even say, huh?" Dean challenged. "Hi, Officer, we think our dead sister might have been kidnapped by some vampires. How's that gonna sound? We'd be thrown into a padded cell before they'd even asked her name. There has to be something else." He once again looked around the room, hoping something would jump out at him. And it did. His attention came to the bag, just under the bed, and he frowned, curious. He stood from the chair and pulled it out.

"You're not seriously gonna go through her stuff." Sam stated, watching him curiously. "That's _so_ wrong."

Dean huffed, impassive. "Wouldn't be the first time, Sammy." he commented. He unzipped it and glanced inside, not sure what he expected to find. With her, it could have been anything, he'd learned that the first time he had made her empty it in front of him. He pulled out a laptop and a smirk came to his face. "Bingo."

He moved back to sit at the table and opened it up. It hadn't been turned off, simply closed, and it required a password.

Sam looked to him, expectant. "You know it?" he asked.

"No, but I know Ali." he said, confident. He tried, and he tried, and then he tried again. But no luck. And then he thought, really thought, feeling his brother's eyes burning into the side of his head as he did, and something struck him. He smiled, and he typed in eight letters. "Nice try, kiddo." he muttered, smug. "She never could outsmart me."

There was a web browser still open, as if she had slammed the lid closed in a hurry, and the page that came up wasn't one that filled him with confidence. It was an article on vampires. "Here, look." he pointed to the screen. "Vampires; the undead, a corpse which subsides by feeding on the life essence of the living, usually by drinking the blood." he read aloud. "That's comforting."

"Dean," Sam nodded towards the screen. "There are other tabs open."

Dean opened one, and his stomach turned. _Treatment of stab wounds._ His mind wandered to the pack of bandages on the receipt they had found. _"_ I don't think we need to read that." he muttered, closing it. He opened the next one, the same article that had been circled in the newspaper, and he simply closed that, too. But the third one interested him. It was a map of the town, and there was a location pinpointed. "It's the same farm as where the bodies were found." he commented. "I think we've just found our vampires."

"And, what are we supposed to do when we do find them?" Sam asked, curious. "How are we supposed to beat them?"

The question took him by surprise, because it was the first time he had shown any interest in going along with the idea. "I don't know." he answered honestly. "If we're going by the movies, wouldn't it be a stake through the heart? Or garlic?"

Sam shot him a look, incredulous. " _Seriously_?"

"Well, what do you suggest?" he countered. "If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears." And then he noticed something, lying on the table in plain sight. Her journal. It was the same one he had found in the woods. He pulled it towards him and opened it, and, just as he remembered, every page was filled with her handwriting, with newspaper clippings, pages printed from her laptop. He flipped through it, needing to find something. "Here," He stopped a few pages in, his eyes scanning the words quickly. "Most of the lore on Vampires is crap. A cross won't repel them, neither will garlic, sunlight won't burn them and a stake to the heart won't stop them. Vampires need fresh blood to survive. They were once people, and they turn others through blood. Vampires nest in small groups, and they head out to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks."

"I think we've heard enough." Sam interjected.

"Listen," Dean stopped him. "To kill a vampire, right here, underlined, capital letters, decapitation."

Sam's face paled. "What?"

Dean shrugged. "That's what it says."

"That was written by a nineteen year old girl, Dean." he snapped. "How do we even know that's true?"

For a moment Dean looked confused, and then offended. "That nineteen year old girl is your sister, Sam." he stated simply. "Ali knew things. And if I was gonna trust anyone's word on a monster, it'd be hers."

Sam stood from his seat, pulling a hand down his face. How had it come to this? He wasn't sure what he had thought was going to happen when he'd accompanied his brother there, but it sure as hell hadn't been this, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. At what point did he draw the line? When did he decide that it was all too much? When did he take the lead and tell him that they needed to go home? He felt sick.

Dean didn't notice the look on his brother's face. Because this was how they were going to find their sister. He tore a clean page from the back of the book, and he scribbled down the address of the farm, barely paying attention to anything going on around him. There was a new found hope in him, and this time he truly believed that they might find her, that they could bring her home, that she could be safe.

Too lost in his own thoughts, too busy reading every last word his sister had written about the creatures they were preparing to hunt down and fight, he barely registered the sound of a door opening behind him. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, but, when he did, he felt his heart stop, his stomach turned, and his eyes widened. He turned around sharply, almost losing his balance as he did, but it was too late. The bathroom door was open, and his brother was already facing the horrors behind it.

"Sam," He pushed himself up, wary, and crossed the room. "Come out of there."

"Dean..." Sam's voice was small, shaky, timid. "What... Oh my god..."

"Sam," He came to a stop behind him, and the scene before him became fresh in his mind. "That's not her blood."

"Dean—"

"Sam, please." he pressed. "Come out."

But Sam ignored him, or maybe he didn't hear him, and he took a step further inside, something Dean hadn't been able to do. He looked around slowly, trying to make sense of the scene around him, but he couldn't. He shook his head slowly, and he now understood the look on his brother's face when he had left. His eyes took in every last detail, and there weren't words for how horrific it was.

His gaze fell to something behind the door, and he felt as though he could throw up right there. "I don't think we need to look anymore." he said quietly, and his breath was caught in his throat as he spoke. The words barely came out.

Dean frowned at him. He barely wanted to ask. "Why?" he pressed, nervous. "What is it?"

Sam reached down behind the door and picked up a small, grey jacket. It was one that he had seen his sister wear a million times in the past. She wore it everywhere. He held it up, his hands shaking, to show his brother. The front of it was covered in blood, the same as the rest of the bathroom was. It was screwed up and stained with dirt and soil. "This was Ali's." he said softly. "Dean, this is her blood. There's no other explanation. It's over."

"No," Dean shook his head, turning from the bathroom. They had come too far not to find her. "No, it's not. We don't know that it's Ali." he stated, defensive.

Sam shook his head, there was no getting through to him. "Are you serious? Dean, it's _her_ motel room, it's _her_ jacket that's literally _dripping_ with blood." He took a breath, calming himself a little. "Dean, we need to call the police, we need to call home. We need to do something."

"What we need to do is check out that farm, we need to make sure that she's not there." he pressed. "Sam, please."

Sam scoffed, incredulous. "I don't believe you." he muttered. "How the hell can you explain this?" he pushed, frustrated. "How can you even begin to reason that she's still out there when you're looking at this? How are you even hanging on to hope? Look around you, Dean, no one could have survived this."

"Because she's my damn sister!" Dean finally snapped, his voice was hard, loud, unforgiving. "That's how I'm holding onto hope, Sam. You tell me how I'm supposed to go home and just accept that she's gone? How am I supposed to accept that she's dead when I have this feeling that she's alive. I _need_ to do this, Sam. I need to be sure. And, you know what, if you're not in this with me, maybe it is time that _you_ went back home."

"Are you kidding? I'm not gonna leave town without you, Dean." He sighed, shaking his head. What more could he say? Dean was determined, he was prepared to carry out whatever plan he had alone, but he knew he couldn't abandon him. Not the way he was. "We check it out, but then we're done. We go home, and you need to let go of this."

Dean nodded, reluctant. "Fine." he agreed. "Let's get the hell out of here."

But the sound of his phone ringing stopped him in his tracks, and his heart skipped a beat. For a second he let himself believe that it could be Alison, that maybe she had found her way to a phone and she was calling him for help. He almost ripped it from his jacket pocket, but, just as quickly as he found the hope, it was extinguished, and his stomach dropped at the name on screen. _Dad._

His stomach turned. "Shit." he muttered. His thumb hovered over the ignore button, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He hadn't told his parents where they were going, that they were even leaving. He could see his mother, going out of her mind with panic, worrying that the same thing that had happened to Alison was happening to them. He had to answer it. "Hello?"

"Dean." His father's voice was hard, relieved, angry, nothing like it had been earlier. "Where the hell are you and your brother?" he demanded, impatient.

Dean sighed. "Dad, we—"

"Your sister has just died, Dean." he said bluntly. He really was pissed. "Do you really think this is the time for the two of you to go running off? Get your asses home, right now."

"I can't, Dad." he said, apologetic, hating every moment of it. "Just, trust me. I can fix this."

"Fix it?" he pressed, and he could hear the confusion in his voice. "What are you talking about?" His voice softened. "Dean, _please_ , come home. Your mom needs you right now."

"I'm sorry, Dad." he said, genuine. He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. "I need to go."

"Dean—"

But Dean ended the call before his father had the chance to say anything more. If he was right about this, he could fix everything. He could find his sister, he could bring her home. He could fix his broken family. He could stop them all from hurting, he could end the pain that haunted them.

He could make it all alright.


	21. Holding On

_As always, let me start by saying a huge thank you to you guys for reading and reviewing, your support means the world!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twenty-One: Holding On**

 _Missouri — 09:02 PM._

The car was silent as Dean cruised to a stop outside of an old barn. Neither brother had uttered a single word since they had left the horrors of the motel room behind. Dean looked over the building carefully, eyes narrowed, on any other day he wouldn't have given it a second glance. It seemed quiet, normal, untouched in years. It didn't look like a place that housed a group of vampires, but he wouldn't linger on that thought. He was determined, and nothing was about to stop him or get in his way. Alison was in there, he was sure of it. He had to be sure, because he didn't have plan B to fall back on. If this didn't go the way he wanted, what else was there? It was his last hope at finding his sister, he needed to be right.

Beside him, Sam didn't share his hopeful attitude. "Dean," he pressed, wary. "Are you sure about this?"

Dean turned to him, exasperated, and frowned. There were only so many times he could listen to the same thing. "Sam, we're doing this." he told him, blunt. "You can stay in the car if you want."

"Well, obviously I won't be doing that." he snapped. "But, Dean, we don't know what the hell is in there—"

"Vampires." Dean stopped him. "I told you." But Sam didn't look at all convinced, not that he could blame him for that. Asking him to believe that monsters were real was a step too far, he just couldn't understand his hesitation to believe that their sister was alive. "Look, Sam, I know it's unbelievable, but this is real. This is what happened to Ali. You saw all that stuff in her room, and I know you think we're both insane, but we're not. Now, are you coming, or not?"

Without another word or a second glance, the door was open and he was out of the car. Sam huffed and shook his head, there was no reasoning with him anymore. He didn't like to think what was going on in his head, or what he really thought he was going to find in that barn. He didn't want to imagine the fall out should she not be there. Even if the body identified hadn't belonged to their sister, all signs still pointed to her being dead. He just couldn't seem to accept that. Against all better judgement he followed him from the car. The chill hit him immediately, and he could see his own breath in the air.

Dean remained in front as they approached the barn in silence, he was visibly on edge, as though expecting to be attacked at any moment, and he pushed open one of the large doors.

"Stay behind me." he muttered. It was a simple command, but Sam wasn't going to argue.

They stepped inside and Dean's eyes scanned the room frantically. For a moment he was sure that they had the wrong place, that Sam had been right all along and he truly was clutching at straws. It was dark and cold, and there was something about it all that just gave him the creeps. It appeared like it had been abandoned for years. The walls around them were damp and looked as though they could collapse down at any given moment. The ground beneath his feet was soft, and he could feel his boots sinking deeper into the mud with every step he took. He continued on his way, ready for anything to jump out at them, but something brought him to an abrupt halt. It stopped him dead in his tracks. His eyes were wide and his breath caught in his throat. Alison.

His green eyes blinked, hard, and then blinked again, but she was still there. It took him a moment to even understand what was happening. She was there, they had found her, and he didn't know how to feel. His sister was slumped down on the ground, and one of her wrists was handcuffed to the metal pipe slightly above her head, holding her there. Though he couldn't see her face, he could see from where he stood that she was covered in blood. He felt sick, and something in his stomach churned. He found himself beside her in three long strides, everything else lost in his mind, and he dropped to his knees next to her.

His hand found her cheek gently. "Ali?" he pressed, nervous, because for a moment he wasn't even sure that she was breathing. Her skin was cold to touch, her face was pale, and he felt a fear like nothing he had ever experienced before. "Alison?! Can you hear me?!" He pushed the blonde hair from her face, matted to her head with blood, and he gripped her face between his hands. "Alison?!" he yelled, desperate. "Come on, Ali, wake up!" She stirred, barely enough movement to notice, but it was there, and a soft frown came to her face. "She's alive." he breathed. "Sammy, she's alive."

There was blood everywhere. It colored the small white vest she wore and it stained her jeans. It covered her arms, her chest, her hands, and it was stained beneath her fingernails. Blood completely covered one side of her face, and it only took a glance to see the wound at her hairline causing it. He made an attempt to move a lock of hair, solid with dried blood, to get a better look, but she flinched away in pain. He had seen all he needed to see. A new wave of panic ran through him. He had been right, she was alive, but only barely.

"We need to get her out of here." he said, his voice hard, determined. "She needs a hospital."

"Dean?" she murmured, and he looked down to her. She was hazy, but she was awake. She looked confused, disorientated, as though she wasn't sure what was happening around her. "What are you doing here?"

Despite everything, Dean cracked a smile. "Goodbye doesn't mean forever, remember? I told you I'd come back if you needed me." But Alison still appeared lost. She reached up, and he noted how her hand was trembling, weak, she almost appeared drunk. Her words were slurred and she didn't appear to have the first clue what was going on there. And then a much darker thought came to him. "Ali?" he pressed, his tone firm. He didn't want to ask, but he had to know. "Alison, those things—"

But she shook her head at him, as if she already knew what he was thinking. Hell, he was more than sure that she did. She always did. "They didn't bite me." she murmured. "They didn't wanna turn me."

Dean frowned, confused. "Then, what?"

For a moment she looked uncomfortable, and he was sure that she wasn't going to answer. "They wanted to feed off me."

Dean was confused, and for a long moment he didn't understand. He opened his mouth, ready to ask her to explain it, but it clicked. He had seen enough movies to know, he'd read her research on those things, he wasn't an idiot, he knew. "You mean they were drinking your..." He trailed off, he couldn't bring himself to say it. "Oh, god. Alison—"

"I'm sorry, Dean." she cut him off before he could say more. "I should have listened to you."

Dean simply shook his head. There was a time and a place for that, but it wasn't there. "You're okay." he assured. "You're gonna be fine, Ali. I promise." But even he wasn't so sure of that.

Her skin was freezing to touch, and she was covered in a cold sweat that didn't fill him with confidence. Even in the dim light, he could see that her lips were a pale shade of blue, and, he noticed as he took a hold of one of her hands, through the blood, so were her fingernails. Her breathing was short, shallow, and he wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to hold on. There was so much blood covering her, and he couldn't even be sure where it was coming from, if it was even hers. He didn't have the time to look, because a sound behind him made him jump. And that was when he remembered, they weren't alone.

Dean looked up to Sam, and he noticed how he hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were wide, and there were tears shining in them. He was frozen to the spot. He couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't react. "Sammy?" he pressed. "Dude?"

"She's alive." he said, his voice little more than a whisper, and he could hear the shock in his words. "You were right. About all of it."

Alison frowned at him, barely even conscious. He knew, she was in and out. "Did you say Sam?" she asked, and she sounded so young, so vulnerable, so innocent as she spoke. "Is he here?"

"I'm here, Ali." Sam said, his voice hoarse. Slowly, tentative, he moved to kneel down beside them, as if broken from a trance, and his hand gently brushed the hair from her face. Her skin was so cold, it took him by surprise. "Alison? Are you alright?"

But the loud bang behind them stopped her answer before she could even think one up. It was followed by the sound of voices, and it startled both brothers. They looked between each other, uncertain. It could have been anyone, anything. All they knew now was that they weren't alone. A part of him knew what was going on, and he knew it wasn't going to end well. The voices that they could hear weren't human, and somehow hunting seemed a lot less safe than it had done when he had been with his sister.

Dean's eyes found Alison's, and she suddenly seemed more alert. He searched her face, desperate. "What do I do?"

For a moment she considered her answer. "Have they seen you?" she asked, and the question confused him. "Dean, do they know you're here?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

Alison nodded, she shifted the slightest bit to sit up a little straighter and he noticed the pain flash through her features as she did. "This is what you need to do," Her eyes were filled with sorrow, remorse, and apology as she looked up to him. She took a short breath, as if struggling for words, and she closed her eyes. "You run." she told him simply. "Fast."

It was a blatant command, and it brought a frown to Sam's face, as if to ask what she had meant. Dean, however, understood the instruction perfectly, and he felt his heart sink in his chest at the words. She didn't think that they were going to survive, she didn't think that she was going to survive, she didn't see a way that the three of them all came out of the situation alive, and she wanted them to leave her there, she wanted them to save themselves. If it hadn't been for the utterly serious look on her face, or the new found determination behind her words, he could have laughed. It broke his heart to think that she assumed they would ever consider it.

Dean shook his head at her, incredulous. "Don't be so stupid." he chided. "Alison, you either tell me what I need to do or I'm gonna go out there and I'll find out for myself. I am not leaving you here. Do you understand me?"

Alison looked torn between answering him and refusing, but she sighed, she knew it was a pointless argument. "Heads." she told him simply, her voice weak. He narrowed his eyes at her, but followed her gaze towards a darker corner of the room. He saw something glimmer in the light, something metal, and then he realized, it was a machete, and everything made so much more sense.

He nodded, and a new found confidence came to him. "Heads. Right." He squeezed her hand, and tried to ignore how she trembled, or how she couldn't seem to find the strength in herself to squeeze back. "Hold on for me, Ali."

Dean made a move to stand, but she stopped him. "Dean." She made a weak attempt to grab his arm, but her grip wasn't strong enough. That scared him.

"No." He shook his head. "You start saying goodbye and I swear I'll kill you myself."

"Dean, don't do this." she whispered, he could hear the fear in her voice, he could see it shining in her eyes. " _Please_."

Dean regarded her for a long moment, and his eyes found hers. "Do you trust me?"

Alison frowned at him, as if confused. "What?"

"Do you trust me?" he asked again, a little firmer.

Alison didn't say anything for a minute, as if contemplating her response, something he never thought she would have to do when faced with that question. She blinked open her eyes again and smiled a little. "Do you remember when we were kids, like I was maybe six or seven," Dean frowned, as if to ask where she was going with it. Her voice was strained, and he was sure she was struggling to get the words out. "I had this tooth that needed pulling, you know when they get really loose and they just won't budge? You asked me if I wanted to make a dollar, you said you'd help me. You tied a piece of string around my tooth and you tied the other end to the kitchen door, and then you slammed it. My tooth went flying across the room."

Dean laughed, and he pushed back the tears in his eyes. "Yeah, I remember." He smiled. "We crawled around on our hands and knees looking for it for hours."

"Yeah," She nodded. "You gotta have a hell of a lot of trust in someone to let them do that to you."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, and he pretended like he didn't know the voices outside of the barn were getting gradually louder. She didn't seem aware, or maybe she didn't care. "I guess you do."

"And, you know something," She continued, seeming unconcerned with her surroundings. He could tell it was taking every ounce of her strength to even speak to him. "I'm probably still dumb enough to let you do something like that to me now."

Dean chuckled. "Same here." he agreed. "If you really trust me that much, I need you to trust me when I tell you that we're gonna be fine, all of us. You need to let me do this, Ali, you need to let me help you."

Reluctant, she nodded. "I believe you." Her voice wasn't strong, and he didn't think she bought her own words for a second.

"Sammy, stay with her." he instructed. "And try and get her out of those cuffs."

Sam looked worried, he looked afraid, and Dean could tell he didn't like what he was about to do, but he didn't argue. "Be careful."

Dean threw him a smirk. "Always am."

As he turned, the smirk dropped from his face, and all aspects of confidence dropped from his stance. Was this how he was going to die? He had no idea what he was doing, he had no idea what he was facing, or how many of them there were. The only thing on his mind was his sister, and, unless he did this right, there was a good chance none of them would get out of there alive. But he had to try. He grabbed the machete and headed towards the doors.

Slowly, tentative, he came closer to the sound of the voices, and his eyes fell to the people they belonged to. From where he stood he could see four of them. They looked so normal, so human, but he knew that to be a lie. These things were evil, they had almost killed his sister, and he was going to make them pay for it. He stepped out of the shadows, and none of them seemed to notice as he approached them from behind. He took a swing at the man standing closest to him, and he felt as the blade easily sliced through the flesh of his neck. Everything seemed to slow in that moment. The body crumpled to the ground, and the head rolled to the side. There was blood everywhere, and three sets of murderous eyes were fixed upon him.

Dean's grip on the machete tightened, and he knew now that it wasn't just a fight for his own life, it was a fight for the lives of his brother and sister, too. If he lost this, so did they.

The man closet to him stepped forwards, arms outstretched as if to say he wasn't the least bit intimidated. He didn't look to be much older than thirty, dressed simply in black jeans and a shirt, and Dean found the time to wonder how many monsters he had passed on the street and never looked twice at. He looked more confused than angry. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, bemused.

A dark smile crossed his features. "Dean Winchester." he stated simply, as if he thought that would actually mean something to them.

But his eyes narrowed. "Winchester." he pondered, and then he nodded. "Well, I'm Marcus. So nice to meet you." There was nothing but sarcasm in his words. "I take it you're here to save the pretty blonde hunter? What are you, brother? Cousin?"

A new wave of protectiveness seemed to wash through him. "The pretty blonde hunter has a name." His voice was low, lethal. "I'm her brother." He took a step towards him, threatening. "I don't take well to people drinking my kid sister's blood."

The man chuckled as though the situation amused him. "So, what's your plan? Hm?" He smiled. "What, you barge in here, kill us all and just walk back out again? You think you're gonna survive this, Dean?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Do you?"

Marcus held up his hands, and he took a step back from them. The other two men stepped forwards, both eyeing him dangerously. They approached from either side of him, slow, calculating. They moved around either side of him. One grabbed him around the arms, holding him back, while the other approached from the front. A cold smile came to his face, and he grimaced a little as a set of fangs descended over his teeth. It was nothing like he had ever seen before. But he wasn't about to let himself get bitten.

Dean moved faster, he brought up his leg and kicked the man before him hard in the stomach, sending him back a few steps. He ripped his arms free of the man holding him and swung the machete around, slicing through his neck easily. He rounded on the other man who was eyeing him warily, he almost looked scared, but Dean had lost any ounce of fear or intimidation that had ever existed. All he felt was rage, the need for revenge, he thought back to the state of his little sister and he saw red. That was all he needed. He took a simple stride towards him and drove the machete through his neck. This time he watched, he noted the pain flicker in his eyes as the colour drained from them, the blood that spilled from his mouth, and the look of utter fright that was fixed into his features. He pulled out the machete and watched as he fell to the ground, choking on his own blood. He stepped forwards and lunged the machete through his skin, cutting through his neck.

Dean turned and faced the last of them still standing; Marcus. The stoic front hadn't faltered, and he still appeared more amused than threatened. "Quite a display." he remarked, as though impressed. "You come in here, slaughter three of my nest, and you think that's gonna end well for you, kid?"

Dean shrugged. He was more than aware that he hadn't lifted a finger to help the others, and he couldn't tell if that was out of choice or reason. "You tell me." he challenged. "I'd say we're winning here."

"Dean, Dean, Dean," He shook his head. "Let me tell you something, there are more of us out there, and it doesn't take long to recruit a new nest. You're not harming me by killing them, you're just creating work for me. And, since I have a hunter tied up in there, she might be my first new member."

"You touch one hair on my sister's head and I swear to god I will bleed you dry myself." he seethed. "Don't even try it."

Marcus took a dangerous step forwards, and only inches separated them. "Would you like to know what your sister's blood tastes like?" he asked, taunting. "Or, better option, would you like to find out?" The question took Dean by surprise, and he frowned. Before he could even process the words, a fist crashed around his face and sent him to the ground. The force behind it wasn't human, it was more like being thrown face first into a brick wall. "You'd make quite an addition." He stepped over him and crouched down. He pulled out a knife and sliced it across his own palm. The blood dripped from the wound, and a darker look came to his features. "Open wide, Dean. Get ready to feel that blood-lust. Your sister is about to be your first feed."

Dean fought against the hand at his chin, forcing his mouth open, but the monster that held him was stronger. He felt the blood drip against his chin, against his cheek, running across his skin. He reached down, desperately trying to grab the machete that was just out of his reach, and struggled. The blood flowed fast from his hand, and he knew he could only avoid it for so long. He thought about Sam and Alison and he knew that he had to do something. They were going to die. With that thought a strength came to him. He pushed out of his hold and his fingertips found his weapon. He drove the blade up through his chest, enough to see it come out of the back of his shirt, but he didn't so much as flinch.

"You're a sick bastard." he seethed. He pulled the machete from his chest and brought it up again, it swung down, straight through his neck, and he dropped to the ground before him.

And then everything came to a stop around him. Silence fell over the barn, and the only thing he could hear was the thumping of his own heart against his chest. His hands were bloody and trembling by his sides, his whole body was shaking, his breathing was labored, and he couldn't string together a straight thought. He stayed there on the floor for a long moment, simply staring down at the bloody floor with wide eyes. Everything was covered in blood, the same as he was, and he couldn't believe what he had just done.

His thoughts fell back to his sister, still lying on the floor, bloody and struggling, _dying_ , and everything once again became so clear to him. The machete fell from his hand and clanged against the floorboards, forgotten about. He scrambled to his feet and turned to make his way back to his siblings, his stomach in knots. He wasn't sure what to expect.

When Dean returned it was to find Alison had been released from the handcuffs, and even from where he stood he could see the broken fresh around her wrist. She was lying on the ground, wrapped up in Sam's jacket and supported by his brother's arms. He was speaking softly to her, he couldn't hear what about, he didn't suppose it mattered, but he noted the look of worry on his brother's face. He looked terrified. Alison was barely conscious anymore, and he knew that they had to do something, fast.

Dean dropped to his knees beside them, and he saw the colour drain from his brother's face at the sight of him. He had barely even noticed, but he ignored it completely. "How's she doing?" he dared to ask, but, as his eyes looked over her slowly, he knew that he wasn't going to like the answer.

Sam shook his head. "Not good." Her eyes were closed, and somehow she looked worse than she had when he'd left. "Dean," He looked down to her, and he pulled up the bottom of her vest. The flesh of her stomach was pierced and still bleeding. It looked like a stab wound. "Give me your phone. We need to call an ambulance."

It took a long moment for him to even register what had been said to him. Her managed to tear his eyes away from her stomach, and they found his brother's. "No." Dean said, his voice firm. There was no way. "We can't."

Sam frowned at him, incredulous. "What?" he exclaimed. "Dean, she needs help, or she's going to die."

"Sam, look around you." he said pointedly. "We're surrounded by dead bodies. We can't bring the cops here."

"Dean, we'll tell the cops—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he snapped, impatient, frustrated. "Sam, the cops would never believe what really happened here. Who the hell would? We need to get out of here, before anyone sees us. We need to take her to a hospital."

It was at that thought, when he looked down to her, that he noticed she wasn't moving, and a horrible feeling washed through him. "Alison?" he pushed, shaking her slightly. "Ali?!" All aspects of softness were gone, because he needed her to wake up. He needed to see her open her eyes. "Come on, Ali, wake up." Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him through her lashes. She was dizzy, and everything around her was spinning, disorientated. "Can you hear me?"

Alison gave the smallest nod, and it looked as though it had taken all of her energy to do so. "Alison, we need to get out of here." Sam said to her, his voice was soft, understanding, but there was a note of alarm to it that she didn't miss.

The words seemed to register with her, and she took a shaky breath. The second she tried to move, she stopped. She winced in pain, and fresh tears brimmed in her eyes, she looked in agony. "Dean," she murmured, her voice strained.

"You're alright, Ali." he assured her, and his hand found her cheek. "I've got you, I promise. I've got you, sis. You're gonna be fine."

The pain seemed to subside, and a soft smile graced her face. "Told you I'd make a hunter out of you." she muttered.

Despite everything, Dean cracked a small smile. He knew she had said it for that exact reason, to show him that she was still in there, that she wasn't about to give up on them, that, aside from everything going on around them, she could still make a joke. But that didn't change the fact that she needed help, sooner rather than later.

Sam looked over her slowly, concerned. "Can you walk?" he asked.

Alison nodded and she took the hand he offered her, allowing him to pull her gently to her feet. His other hand supported her back, and he noticed how weak she really was. She was dizzy, and her knees almost immediately gave way beneath her. Sam and Dean instinctively grabbed a hold of her before she could fall to the ground, and the look they shared was not one of confidence. They knew there, they were both wondering how much longer she was going to be able to hold on, if she was even going to make it to a hospital.

But Dean ignored those dark thoughts. He reached down and picked her up effortlessly. "Come on," he pressed. "Let's get the hell out of here."


	22. Truth Comes Out

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!:-)_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Truth Comes Out**

 _Missouri — Riverdale Hospital — 01:46 AM._

Three hours had passed by since they had arrived, and Sam and Dean still sat in silence, side by side on the uncomfortable plastic chairs the hospital's waiting room had to offer them. Dean's arms were folded tightly across his chest, partly to cover the blood, and his eyes were fixed to the floor as he waited for something, _anything_. At that point, they weren't even sure that she was going to make it. But he wouldn't think about that. Sam's elbows rested against his knees, and his head rested against the palms of his hands as he tried to think through everything that had happened that day. His brother had decapitate four people. He had seen his sister clutching to life with every ounce of strength left in her. He had seen that motel room, her research there, all checked in under a false name. It was like he didn't even know the girl he was waiting on to wake up anymore. Or, for that matter, the man who sat beside him. Dean knew so much more than he had let on. He had known all along that she had been alive, that she had been fighting monsters, that she had been lying. Why hadn't he said something? Why hadn't he done anything to stop her? He didn't understand.

"She said she was sorry." he said quietly, as if expecting some kind of an explanation to follow the statement.

But Dean said nothing. He glanced up at him with a frown, clearly confused. The look on Sam's face told him he'd been thinking over it for a long time before he'd said anything, but he didn't catch on. "What?"

Sam looked up to face him, and Dean saw the accusation in his face. "She said that she should have listened to you." His eyes narrowed slightly. "How long have you known about all of this?"

Dean scoffed. "What, that my kid sister hunts monsters?" He shook his head, it still didn't seem real, and it was a conversation that he never expected to have with anyone but Alison. Somehow, talking about it with someone else felt like some kind of betrayal. It was her secret to tell, her world, not his, but this was Sam. He couldn't sit there and lie to him. And, suddenly, he understood why she had tried so hard not to tell him. He had forced a confession out of her, and it wasn't until then, until he had been asked to explain it the way she had, that he understood how hard it had been for her to tell him, and how much she must have really trusted him to be able to share it. After everything, that hurt. "Since the last time I came home. I followed her up to Ohio, she was hunting some ghost there. I tagged along." He shrugged. "I didn't believe it was real, not until...well... let's just say it's real. She wasn't kidding around. Our sister is freaking badass, Sammy, some of the things she's done—"

"How could you let her do that?" he pushed, frowning, confused, hurt. " _Alone_."

Dean shrugged again. "It was stupid." he admitted. "I know it was. I should have told mom and dad the minute I found out. But, what would they have said to that? Huh? How are you supposed to sit your parents down and tell them that their kid hunts monsters? That doesn't sound crazy at all."

"Our sister could have _died_ tonight, Dean." he snapped. "Hell, she might."

"Don't start talking like that, Sam." he said, rough. He wouldn't listen to that. "She is not going to die. Alison's a tough kid, she's gonna be fine. She's always fine." It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Dean, you saw the state of her." Sam continued. "Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"Look, Sam, I know you're pissed at me, you've got every right, but don't do this here." he warned him. "Not now."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he seemed to think twice about it. Dean was right. It wasn't the time or the place to get into an argument, about anything, and so they fell back into the silence that had consumed them before.

The guilt spiralled around Dean's mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that, had he said something earlier, had he made more of a move to stop her, they might not be sitting where they were now. Maybe if he had told their parents things might have turned out differently. Sure, Alison would be pissed as hell at him, but at least she would be alive. He wouldn't allow those thoughts to enter his mind, he wouldn't think about what might happen to her, he couldn't, it would destroy him, and he wouldn't be able to sit there and wait thinking that she wasn't going to make it. Hope was all he had to go on, and, after everything they had been through to get her there, he wasn't about to give up on it now.

He looked up, uninterested, as the double doors beside the reception desk barged open. But his eyes widened as he watched his mother run through them, her eyes were wide with panic, she looked frantic, and even from there he could see the desperation. Her eyes were red, bloodshot, and there were deep circles beneath them. His father was right behind her, the same look of alarm present on his face, in his stance. Her eyes scanned the waiting room, and they immediately found his as he rose from his seat.

Mary all but stormed towards her eldest child, never blinking, as if for fear that he might vanish should she do so. "Where is she?"

"Mom—"

"Where is my daughter, Dean?" she demanded. "I want to see her."

Dean's face softened. "You can't, mom. I'm sorry." He sighed, remorseful. "They won't let us in."

Mary's face fell, and her eyes searched his for some kind of comfort, some kind of an explanation. "Is she even alive?"

"Yeah, she's alive." he assured. "I spoke to her, she's alive. Mom, she's still here."

Mary choked a sob, and he caught her around the arms before her legs could give out beneath her. Her hands were gripped to the front of his shirt, so hard that her knuckles turned white, and she cried. Her head was bowed down to hide her face, and her eyes were squeezed closed, but there was no holding back the overwhelming emotion. She couldn't think, she didn't know how to feel, it was all too much. She was latching onto the nearest thing to her—him. He had never seen her like that before, and he felt the physical pain in his chest. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug as she cried against his shoulder.

Dean noted the doctor watching them from outside of Alison's room, and he just knew he was coming towards them. He tried to decipher the look on his face, he tried to work out if it was good news or bad news, but he just couldn't read him. He started walking in their direction. "Mom." Dean said, his voice firm, he held her a little tighter, and she looked up to face him. He nodded in the direction of the doctor, and she turned to face him.

He looked between John and Mary slowly. "Alison's parents?"

Her head almost snapped up. "Yes, yes, that's us." Her eyes studied him, the same as Dean's had just moments ago. "Where is she? Is she alright? What's going on?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "Mrs Winchester, your daughter is holding on. When she was brought in she was experiencing Hypovolemic shock, brought on by the serious amount of blood loss to her body." Her face paled visibly at the words. "Right now, we're still working on treating the blood loss, after that we're hoping her condition will stabilize, but we won't know anything more until then. She's lucky, if your sons hadn't found her when they did, it could have been a very different story. She's fighting hard. I'll update you as soon as we know anything more. Excuse me."

But before anyone else could get a single word out, and barely waiting until they were out of earshot of the doctor, John rounded on the two men standing behind him, his face the picture of thunder. He looked angry, furious even. "One of you better start explaining what the hell is going on." He raised his eyebrows, impatient, accusing, when neither of his sons answered. They looked started, too taken aback to form even a reasonable explanation, but he barely noticed. He looked to Dean, expectant. " _Well_?"

Mary's eyes lingered on him, she looked more afraid than anything else. She looked him up and down slowly, wary. His shirt and jeans were stained with blood, the skin of his hands, though it had been washed, was still tainted with a faint redness, and the left side of his face was slowly turning a deep shade of purple. "What happened to you?" she asked, timid, concerned.

Dean sighed, defeated. It had all gone on for long enough. He had to tell them, there was no other way around it. He couldn't keep lying about it, not anymore, not there, not after everything that had happened. He wouldn't know where to start, and it would simply lead to him and his sister drowning into a pit of deceit. Some secrets could only be kept for so long, and it was time that hers came out, even if she wasn't ready for it. "Okay," He nodded. "But I need you to hear me out. _Please_." His parents looked between each other, they looked confused, concerned, but they looked on at him, as if to say that they were prepared to do that. "The truth is, Ali got herself involved in something, and..." He shook his head, he didn't even know where to start, how was he supposed to put it into words? How was he supposed to begin explaining something like that to them?

"Something?" John pressed, there was a frown on his face, and Dean could see the curiosity, the worry for his only daughter. Sam was eyeing him carefully, as if wondering where he was going with his words. "Something like what?" he pressed. "Is she in some kind of trouble? Has someone hurt her?"

"No. At least, I don't think so." He sighed, he might as well just say it. "There are things out there, not... _normal_."

Mary's brows creased together. There was something in the pit of her stomach, a feeling, a realization, something like the last piece of a jigsaw being put into place. She only prayed that she was wrong. "Dean, what are you trying to say?"

"I mean, things that aren't... like us. Things that aren't human. And Alison was... I don't know... hunting them, I guess." He looked between them, desperate for them to understand. "I know it's unbelievable, and I didn't believe it, either. But I saw it for myself. I've seen what she can do, and it's real. It's all real. I know it sounds crazy, trust me, I know, but I'm telling you the truth."

"What do you mean, you've seen it?" Mary asked him, more concerned than ever. "When have you seen it?"

"The weekend after I came home, remember Ali said she was going to California to some college weekend? She wasn't. I knew she wasn't. I knew she was up to something, so I followed her." He paused, wondering how much he could really tell them. But it was out of the bag now, he had said too much for him not to say everything. They needed to know, at least, that's what he was telling himself. "She was going to Ohio, to hunt a ghost."

His dad's face fell, and, in that moment, Dean was sure they were ready to call him insane. "A ghost?"

Dean nodded. "I didn't believe it, either. I thought she was kidding, but I saw the thing, I saw her take it out. And, after that, we went to Colorado, we told you we were going camping, we were hunting this thing, a Wendigo, in the woods." They looked lost, stunned. "Like I said, I know how it sounds, and I don't expect you to believe me, but it's the truth."

But John and Mary suddenly looked a lot less shocked than he had expected. They shared a look between each other, as if having an unspoken conversation, one that, despite how he tried, he just couldn't hope to interpret, and for a moment he dared to believe they would listen. His mother looked almost heartbroken, his father looked confused, as though he couldn't comprehend what was happening around him.

"What?" He looked between them slowly, from one to the other, trying to understand. "What is it?"

"You know what a Wendigo is." Mary said softly, a slight waver in her words. "I know you're telling the truth." She seemed to compose herself a little, and appeared to realize where they were, standing in the middle of a busy hospital waiting room. She nodded towards a table towards the back of the room, quiet, secluded. "Come and sit down. There are some things you both need to know."

Sam and Dean shared a look, confused, more confused than they had been all night. Something was going on with their parents, and between them, they weren't sure they were ready to hear whatever they were about to be told. John placed a hand to her shoulder as she walked ahead of them, comforting, reassuring, and they followed. They sat across from their parents, and Dean felt almost nervous. He had never seen them look the way they did right there.

"There's a reason you've never met your grandparents." Mary said quietly, she almost sounded ashamed. "My mom and dad, they do the same thing as what Alison's been doing. They always have done. And, for a long time, until I met your father, so did I."

Dean's eyes were wide, Sam's mouth was hanging open. "Wait," Dean stopped her, shaking his head. He couldn't believe this. " _You_... hunted ghosts?"

Mary nodded. "I hunted everything. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons," She offered Dean a slight smile. "Wendigos. And, Alison's been doing this? How long have you known about it?"

Dean sighed. "A while." His tone was apologetic, guilty. "Since the last time I was home. I know that I should have told you about it, but, I couldn't. Mom, I'm sorry."

She held up a hand, as if to say that it didn't matter. He noticed, she didn't appear angry, but then, she never did. He couldn't recall a single time he had seen his mother look truly angry, about anything. Annoyed, of course, pissed, on occasion, but never angry. "What was she hunting?" she pressed. "When it happened? What did this to my daughter?"

"Vampires." And he saw how her face completely dropped at the comment. "They didn't bite her." he added quickly. "They, uh, well, they were... you know..."

"Feeding off her." she finished for him. For a moment, he was sure she was going to be sick. "Did she take care of them?"

Dean shook his head. "I did." he said, and, this time, she noted how he sounded ashamed. "It's finished."

"And, her body?" she asked, hesitant. "Shifter?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Apparently. That's why she didn't come home. She left to take care of that shifter, she killed it, but then, I don't know exactly what happened, maybe she found out that there were vampires close by, or maybe they found her, but I think they got the jump on her." He cleared his throat. "When we found her, she was tied up, bloody..."

His mother looked ready to cry. "Oh my god."

"Mom," His eyes found hers, blue and shining with tears he knew she wouldn't let fall. "I really am sorry."

Mary opened her mouth to respond, but a voice stopped her. "Mr and Mrs Winchester?" She composed herself and looked up to face the doctor. His eyes looked between the four of them, and he seemed to realise he had stepped in at a bad time. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No, no." Mary stood to face him, as did John. "Is she okay? What's going on?"

The doctor's face formed the slightest smile. "It's good news, looks like we have a fighter on our hands. Your daughter is responding well to her treatment. We've treated the blood loss and she seems to have stabilized. I'm afraid now it's just a waiting game. We won't know anything more until she wakes up."

Sam frowned. "She will wake up, right?" he asked, and the fear came through in his words.

"I'm confident of it." he answered. "It's hard to say when, it really depends on her. With some patients it can be right away, with others it takes time. But, like I said, she's a fighter, hopefully it shouldn't be too long for you."

Mary smiled, fresh tears shining in her eyes. "Can we see her?"

"Of course." He nodded. "Talk to her, let her know you're with her. It helps."

They made a move towards her room, but Dean grabbed the sleeve of his mother's coat before she could go anywhere. Mary turned around, seeming a little startled, but she saw the look of fear in her son's face. He looked terrified, shattered, broken, as though the severity of what could have, and almost did, become their new reality had only then sunken into his head. He would maintain that she would be fine for as long as he could, but it was only when it was confirmed that he would allow the darker thoughts to enter his mind, the ones that told a different story, the ones where he didn't manage to save her, the ones where she wasn't going to be okay, the ones where his little sister didn't make it.

"Mom, I'm so sorry." he said, and the words took her by surprise. He sounded so small, so fragile in that moment, she felt her heart break a little. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you. I'm sorry that I didn't stop her." He shook his head. "Mom, I'm just sorry. For all of it."

"Dean," She took a short step forwards and wrapped her arms around him. His arms held her tightly, looking for comfort. "This isn't your fault. This isn't anyone's fault. She's going to be fine." Tears welled up in her eyes as she held him tighter. "You saved her life. You saved her, Dean. She's okay."

Dean just didn't care anymore, he let it out. It didn't cross his mind that he was standing in the middle of a hospital waiting room, it didn't enter his head that he was crying against his mother's shoulder, it just didn't matter. Every ounce of strength he had held onto since he had been told she was gone crumbled then and there. He was finished. His eyes squeezed closed as he made some futile attempt to hold back the tears that pooled in his eyes, and his head dropped forwards heavily to rest on her shoulder, the same way that hers rested against his. They subconsciously held onto each other tighter, holding on for comfort, for support, and, for a long moment, neither made a move to change that.

Mary pulled back enough to look at him, and a soft smile graced her face, so loving, so forgiving. She reached up and wiped a stray tear from his cheek with her fingertips. "You know something, I'll never understand what it is the two of you have between you, I don't think anyone will, but I've always sworn you can read each other's minds, even when you were kids." She smiled. "I've never been more thankful for than than I am now. I don't think anyone else could have found her, Dean. Thank god you did."

Dean shook his head. "And what if I hadn't?" he asked her, because the guilt was building up inside him and he just didn't know what to do with it. "Mom, what if I hadn't found her? I knew what she was doing. And I knew, when I left, I knew she was going to do it again. I could have stopped her, I could have told you—"

"But you didn't. And you never would." He frowned, as though confused, and she chuckled. "Dean, you and Alison, I don't know the words to describe what the two of you have but," She paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "I think we all know, if Alison asks you to do something, you will, without question, the same as she would for you. And that's not such a bad thing. I don't blame you for this, neither does your father, and neither should you. Come with me," She guided him to the chairs they had been sitting on, and they sat beside each other. "You know, I don't know if I ever told you this, but when Alison was a baby, she woke up a lot during the night. And you weren't a heavy sleeper. You'd get out of bed and you'd come into her room, and I'd have been sat there trying to get her to calm for such a long time, you'd walk in with a blanket and sit with us, and all you'd have to say was it's okay, Ali, and she'd settle. Just like that. Every time. And I don't think that bond you two had ever broke."

Dean looked up at her. "You never told me that." he said quietly. "I don't even remember."

"You were only three." She smiled at the thought. "Some of the things I could tell you, Dean. I bet you don't remember you and your sister colouring all over my wall, do you?"

Dean laughed, shaking his head. "We did?"

"You could be little trouble makers when you wanted to be." There was a fond smile on her face as she thought back. "We had this dinner party planned once, your dad's boss and his wife were coming over, about ten minutes before they showed up, the three of you emptied an entire bag of flour all over the living room. And, I mean, I had three giggling kids covered head to toe in it, couch, floor, everything. Another time, you were probably about six or seven, and I still don't know how you did it, but we found the three of you sitting on the kitchen floor sharing a bottle of wine your dad had gotten for me, staggering around giggling between yourselves for hours. And then there was the time the three of you carved your initials into your dad's car, I don't think he ever got over that one." She laughed. "And don't think I don't know that you and Alison used to skip school together, because I know that, too." She saw his face drop at that comment, and he looked no older than a busted teenager. "And, I know about the tattoos."

The smile dropped, and Dean's face contorted to one of utter confusion, too good to have been acting. "What tattoos?"

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, let's keep it that way." Dean smiled, really smiled, and she couldn't help but realize just how much she'd missed that look on his face. "But, aside from a few broken ornaments and a couple repainted walls, you were good kids. When Sammy was born, Alison was still only a year old, she still woke up in the night, your dad worked full time, I was exhausted. Sometimes, when one of them would cry, you'd sing to them."

"I did?" He smiled a little. "Did it work?"

"With Alison? Every single time." She chuckled. "Sammy, not so much. But, in those moments, you seemed so much older." She smiled. "You always have been. All of you." She reached up and placed her hand gently to his cheek for a moment. "I don't know what I did to deserve kids like you three. But I must've done something right."

Dean smiled. "Well, we had good parents." he quipped. "I'm sure that helped."

Mary chuckled. "Maybe a little."

"Hey, mom? Can I ask you something?" She looked up, expectant. "Is this why you don't talk to your parents? Because you stopped hunting things?"

His mother shifted a little, and he noted the sadness in her eyes at the question. "Your grandparents lived for that job, that was who they were, it was all they were. We never really had a home, we just moved around all the time. Everything was about hunting, all the time. Our family time was shooting practice and researching cases, our dinners were just talk about monsters," She shook her head. "And then I met your dad. For the first time there was something else in my life, you know? Something more. And, when we found out we were going to have you, I just didn't want that kind of childhood for you. I couldn't let you grow up the same way that I did." She sighed. "They didn't understand that. They didn't agree. And we just kind of drifted apart. It was hard, but, I couldn't have any of you near that life. Not after—"

But she stopped herself, and he knew she hadn't meant to say whatever she almost had. "After what?"

Mary looked down, as if she didn't want to face him. "Something almost happened. Something almost went wrong." She cleared her throat and straightened herself in her chair, looking down at the rings on her finger. "There was a demon, this horrible, evil thing. It wanted Sam. And it almost got him. One night, he wasn't old, just six months. It tried to get into the house."

Dean wasn't sure what to say. "What happened?"

"There was a house in Lawrence we'd been looking at, we weren't sure about it, but that night it happened, we knew we had to take it. Your dad took the three of you to a motel near it, I stayed behind. My parents and I found that demon, we took care of it. That was the last time I saw them." She shrugged. "We had to get as far away from that life as we could. And, I knew, as long as we were around them hunting, the more danger you were going to be in. We couldn't risk it. So we bought that house in Kansas, and we started over."

Dean smiled. "Home."

"Yeah," She nodded. "Home."

He thought about what she had done, for them, and he frowned. "Don't you miss them?"

Mary nodded. "I do." She gave a soft smile. "But I think about what could have happened that night, and what might have happened if we hadn't left when we did. And I know we made the right choice."

Dean shook his head. "Why didn't you ever tell us about them?"

"I guess I didn't want any of you getting curious about their life." She gave a weak laugh. "Guess it found you anyway."

"Are you mad?" he asked, a little hesitant. "At Alison?"

"No." Her answer was automatic, as if it didn't even require her to think. But she knew, had her answer been different, he was more than ready to defend her. That never changed. But, really, she wasn't. "Not for a second. I've been there, I understand. And, you know, I'm not even surprised. Alison always wanted to help people, she always wanted to make some change in the world, that's why she took that job in the nursing home, she wanted to make people's lives better. I just wish she could have seen she already did, she didn't need to do anything more." This time it was Mary's turn to hesitate. "What was she like?" she asked, apprehensive. "Doing that job?"

Dean thought on her question for a long moment, unsure of what to say. "Different." he eventually answered. That was the only word he could think that did it justice. "She, uh, she was so confident. You know when she talks about work, and she'll say something like one of her residents had a fall and split their head, or they were having a fit, and she just knows what to do, she doesn't panic, she doesn't think twice, she just knows. It was kinda like that. She was brave. I mean, it was like she went from the girl who screamed at a spider in the bath to this fearless monster hunter. She just wasn't afraid, of anything. But she took it seriously. There was this one night, we weren't sure exactly what we were looking for, but she wouldn't quit until she found out, it was like she just needed answers, she needed to know, there was no talking to her, it just consumed her, like there wasn't a world outside of that motel room until she knew." He shrugged. "But she was doing everything she did for the right reasons, that much I know. She just wanted to save people. I think that's all she ever intended to do, and she just got herself in too deep." He paused, and a darker thought came to mind. "We could have lost her over it. We almost did."

Mary nodded in agreement. "But we didn't. And, right now, that's all that matters. You know, when the police told us that she...that we'd lost her..." She shook her head. "I couldn't even imagine a life without her. And the fact that she's here, that she's alive, nothing else matters. I still have my daughter, and you still have your sister. Nothing else should be important. Don't dwell on what could have happened, you'll never move past it."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "You're right."

"Come on," Mary said, smiling. "Let's go and see your sister."


	23. Family

_Thank you once again for reading and reviewing the last chapter, I love you guys!_

 _Hope you enjoy! Next chapter is the last one, guys!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: Family**

 _Missouri — Riverdale Hospital — 0_ _8_ _:_ _59_ _AM._

Hours had passed by, and Alison still hadn't woken.

Dean wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there in the same seat beside her bed, everything else that had been going on around him was a complete blur, nothing more than background noise to him. He paid little attention. Since he had entered the room he had seen nothing but his little sister. He hadn't heard a single word said by his parents or brother, he hadn't even been attempting to listen. His ears were focused on the steady beeping of the machine behind him, as if he could detect the slightest change. His eyes burned, stinging from the lack of sleep, but he barely wanted to blink. He hadn't even noticed when his parents and brother had long since retired to get something to eat from the small cafeteria the hospital had to offer. All he knew was that he couldn't leave her. Not again. He didn't want to, not after everything he had seen. He just couldn't.

For a moment inside that barn he had been so sure that she was going to die, that they really were going to lose her, and it was a feeling that he never wanted to experience again for as long as he lived. He had never known a fear or a dread like it before. Sitting in that waiting room had been nothing but antagonising.

Since arriving there it had all become so clear how close they had come to really losing her. Another hour and he was sure that she wouldn't have made it. That scared him, it terrified him, more than he wanted to admit. It was finally sinking in, now that he knew she was going to wake up, that she was going to be okay, how different it could all have ended. It occurred to him, had she not taught him what she had, had he not listened to her and trusted her like he did, had she not trusted him with the biggest secret she had ever had, there was a good chance he would have been sitting at her funeral rather than her bedside.

In the time they had been sat in the waiting room she had been cleaned up. No longer was her skin stained with blood or dirt, and the damage inflicted upon her only became more apparent without the mask. Her right eye and cheek was purple with bruising, and the deep gash at her hairline was held together with stitches and covered by a bandage. There was a large bandage around her wrist where she had been restrained with a pair of handcuffs and the visible parts of her arms were covered in bruises and cuts. Her lips were dark and cracked, and her skin was still a pale grey colour. She barely looked like the sister he knew. He didn't want to think about what she had been through while she had been there, or what those things had done to her. He didn't want to imagine the fear or hopelessness she had experienced, locked away to die there. It was unthinkable, and he found himself wondering how she had survived it, or where she had found the strength to withstand it.

It was in that moment, where Dean was too lost in his own dark thoughts to notice much of anything else, that her fingers closed gently around his hand, still holding hers in a loose grip. It took him a long moment to even realise it had happened, but his head snapped up to look at her when he did, his eyes were wide and his breathing came to a halt. Her hold on him was loose, weak, but it was definitely there, and he felt the hope leap in his chest. "Alison?" he pressed, cautious, nervous, but she didn't respond. "Ali?" he coaxed. "Ali, can you hear me?"

The softest frown came to her face and slowly she blinked open her eyes. His face broke into a grin at the sight, and he released the breath he hadn't even known that he was holding. A sense of relief washed through him, nothing like he had ever experienced before. She shifted the slightest bit, and he didn't miss how she winced in pain as she moved. Her eyebrows were furrowed together as she looked around at her blurred surroundings, and the confusion was evident in her features. Her eyes fell to him, and the curiosity only seemed to deepen.

"Hey, kiddo." he said, his voice was thick with emotion, and he found that he just couldn't hold back the smile.

Alison looked perplexed. "Dean?" Her eyes narrowed at him and her voice was hoarse. He didn't like to think it was probably down to the screaming she had done at the hands of the monsters who had taken her.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, it's me." He smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in his as if to prove it. "I'm here."

Her vision was unfocused, and she wasn't sure what was happening around her. "Where are we?" she asked him, confused. "What happened?" She blinked, hard, and frowned at him. "Dude, you're covered in blood."

Dean tried not to let the concern show in his face. "You're in the hospital." he told her. His voice was soft, understanding, because she looked like she had a headache. Hell, he would have been more surprised if there was anything that _didn't_ ache. "Don't you remember?" he pressed. "The vampires?"

And then he saw the realization wash through her face. If possible, she seemed to become paler. "Oh." The colour drained right out of her, and he was sure that she was about to be sick. "Yeah, I remember." She shook her head slowly, and he could see her beginning to come around. He could see his sister again. "For a minute I thought that was just some screwed up dream." And then something else seemed to click in her mind, and she turned to look up at him. "What are you doing home?"

Dean shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm on compassionate leave." he commented simply, as though it was nothing to worry about.

But her face contorted to a frown, and he could have laughed at how clueless she looked. "Who died?"

A smile came to his face, and he rolled his eyes at her, amused. "You did." he stated. "Ali, everyone thought that you were dead. Mom identified your body."

It took a long moment for her to process what he had said, and for a moment she was sure that she had heard him wrong. "Oh." That was all she said. Her face didn't change, she appeared as calm as ever. "Shit."

Dean huffed a dry laugh. "Shit is right." he agreed.

Tentative, she looked up, she had to ask. "Are they here?" He didn't miss the worry in her tone.

"Yeah," He nodded. "We're all here."

Alison nodded, and he could see something swimming around in her mind. She looked as though she didn't want to ask him, as if she were afraid, and he couldn't understand what it might be. Her eyes fell to her lap, refusing to face him. "Did you tell them?" she asked him, her voice soft, as though she already knew what his answer was going to be.

Dean sighed, remorseful. "I didn't have a choice, kid." He threw her an apologetic look, but he noticed, she didn't appear mad. "They're not angry with you." Gently, he reached out and smoothed the hair from her face. "My sister the Ghostbuster."

"Dean—"

"Alison the vampire slayer." He snickered.

Alison rolled her eyes at him, and there was a smile playing on her face no matter how hard she tried to hide it. "You're not funny."

Dean smiled at her. "Maybe a little." he quipped.

Alison reached out towards him, and her fingertips gently traced the side of his face. "I see they improved your face." she commented, sarcastic. "Nice shiner you've got there, bro." He could tell it was meant as a joke, but the concern came through clearly in her words.

But all Dean did was chuckle. "Well, you've got one to match it." he countered.

"You decapitated four vampires." He raised an eyebrow, questioning. "That's a little reckless, don't you think?"

"I learned from the best." he stated. But the smile faded slightly from his face at the thought, and he knew then that he couldn't avoid asking the truth forever. Sooner or later he was going to have to know. "What happened to you, Ali? All that blood in your room—"

"Oh my god." Her eyes went wide, and she sat up quickly. "Dean, we need to go."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean held out his hands to stop her, a little taken aback by the sudden alarm. "What?"

"That room could put us _all_ behind bars for murder, we need to go." She made a move to get out of bed, but he stopped her.

"Calm down." He shook his head at her, and coaxed her to lie back down. "Chill out, alright? It's taken care of." She frowned at him, as if to say that she didn't understand, and he smiled. "I met your buddy Dylan. He was up there looking for you. I called him, he said he'd clean it up, he's gonna get rid of the bodies, make sure there are no more of them up there, and he's already sent your stuff back to the house. It's fine. No one's ever gonna know what happened in there. You're safe, kiddo. I promise. We all are."

Alison seemed to consider his words for a moment. "Oh." She relaxed a little and leaned back against the pillows. "Dylan, huh?"

"Yeah." Dean threw her a look, and the one he got in return was expectant. He held up his hands, defensive. "I admit it, I was wrong about him, I jumped the gun. He's not just some punk ass kid. He's a good guy." She smiled, as if a little smug. "But that's not what we're talking about here." he continued. "The room? What happened in there, Ali? It looked like a murder scene. And your jacket? Internet searches on how to treat a stab wound? Who the hell stabbed you?"

Alison looked away from him. "You saw that, huh?" She huffed a laugh. "Wow. You really did go all out with your investigation."

"Well, it was kinda hard to miss it." he remarked, but she threw him a look. "Oh. You meant the laptop."

"Wait, how did you even guess my password?" she frowned, confused, accusing.

Dean scoffed. "Really, Alison?" He shook his head at her. "You might be smart, but you're not that smart. And, look, I'm not judging you for anything, and I'm not mad, I just wanna know what happened to you. All that blood, something bad went down in that room."

Alison was silent for a long moment, as though contemplating her words carefully. "I, uh, I went up to Missouri to take care of a shifter, I thought it'd be a simple job, you know? And it was. More or less. The thing put up more of a fight than I'd expected. It was so trippy, I mean, I literally got stabbed by myself."

Dean frowned. "Wait, so it was the shifter that stabbed you? Not the vamps?"

"Yeah," She nodded. "It was the shifter. That thing was tough. I was ready to come home, and then I got a lead on some vampires. Obviously they'd gotten a lead on me, too. They found me before I found them. One of them showed up at the motel, barged through the door." She offered a lame shrug. "It wasn't my blood. Well, most of it wasn't. I killed it. I got rid of the body, came back to the room, but two of them followed me there. We fought, they got the jump on me, and they took me to that place. I'm guessing you can work out the rest."

Dean shook his head slowly, the look on her face wasn't one he recognized. Her words scared him. It didn't feel real. "Oh my god, Ali."

Alison looked up to face him again, and the hurt was visible in her eyes. She felt the guilt, and she knew then that she had been in the wrong. "I owe you an apology." she said, her voice little, and he could have sworn that she sounded ashamed.

But Dean simply shook his head, automatic. "You don't owe me anything." he stated, serious, dismissing any notion of the idea.

But Alison didn't look convinced. "You told me, Dean, over and over, and I never listened to you. All I thought about in that place was how I should have done what you asked me to, that, maybe if I had, I wouldn't have ended up there." She looked down for a moment, twisting the plastic hospital bracelet around her wrist. "You were right, all along."

Dean's eyebrows raised. "Did you just say that I was right? Wow, never thought I'd see the day. Can I have it in writing?" A smirk came to his face, and she offered a weak smile. He was trying to cheer her up, she knew that, but she felt nothing but awful inside. The last thing she wanted from him was a joke, because it was the last thing she thought she deserved. And he could see that. "Look, Ali, maybe I was right, but that doesn't mean that you were wrong. I understand, I get it now. I sat in that waiting room and I thought, you know what, maybe I shouldn't go back, maybe I should stay home, maybe I should have stayed home the last time. But, then I thought, I don't go back, maybe there's someone over there who I don't get to save, maybe there's someone over there I'm supposed to help, and, if I don't go back, they don't get saved. My friends don't have that extra backup, and maybe someone gets hurt." Her eyes narrowed at him, something about what he was saying sounded so familiar to what she had said to him in Ohio, and she knew that he was thinking the same thing. "Crazy, right?" he chuckled. "God help me if I'm on the same wave length as you. But, just so you know, I do get it now. I get why you did what you did, and I get why you went back to it. I don't think there's anything wrong about it. Reckless, yeah. But not wrong."

There was a soft smile on her face, but there was a sadness to it that he just didn't understand. "How did you even find me?"

Dean shrugged, as though it hadn't been a big deal. "I just knew that you couldn't be dead. I don't know what it was, but somewhere I knew it. I knew you were out there somewhere." She studied his face, trying to understand. "You know, they told me you were dead and I just, I don't even know how to explain it, it didn't seem like it could be real. Guess I wasn't ready to say goodbye to you forever." He smiled down at her. "These last few days I've learned something."

"Yeah?" she pressed, curious. "What's that?"

"This world is a darker place without you in it, Ali." His voice was kind, his words sincere. "It's just not the same. Home wasn't home without you there. Mom and dad weren't mom and dad. Sam wasn't Sam. It was just... _different_. It's hard to explain it."

Alison squeezed his hand softly. "You never give up on me, do you?" She looked as though she was going to cry, tears were shining in her eyes, clinging to her lashes, and her voice was thick. "No matter how stupid I get."

"Hey, you are not stupid." he told her bluntly. "What you were doing, it was dangerous, and I do still owe you a serious ass kicking for doing it alone like that, but you're brave. You're braver than you ever give yourself credit for. You're smarter than you even realize. And I don't think there are many people out there in this world who'd dare to do what you've been doing." He looked down at her hand in his, and he smiled. "I've never met anyone as selfless as you are, and I don't think I ever will."

"You saved my life, Dean." Her voice was small, and a single tear escaped her. "Thank you."

Dean reached up and wiped the tear away gently. "Well, you know me, always willing to hop on a plane and decapitate some vampires for my favorite sister." He paused, and a frown came to his face. "Never thought I'd hear myself say that." Alison laughed, and, for the first time that day it appeared genuine. "I've got something for you," He reached into his jacket and pulled out the necklace he had found in her motel room. "Chain needs fixing, but," He shrugged. "Here."

Alison took it from him, and he didn't miss how her fingernails were still stained with blood as she did. Her hands were still shaking slightly, but she didn't seem concerned with any of that. A soft smile came to her face as her thumb traced the words on the back of the locket. "Thank you." she said, genuine. "For everything."

Dean nodded. "You should get some rest." he offered, and the concern came through in his words. "You've been through a lot."

"No." She shook her head firmly, everything else forgotten. "I wanna see mom. Is she okay?"

Dean looked torn between lying to her and telling the truth. "She will be." he concluded. "Once she's seen you're okay, she will be." He paused, and he looked up to her. "There's, uh, there's some stuff the two of you need to talk about." She frowned, puzzled, as if asking for some kind of a hint. He smiled simply. "Let me go get her. You wouldn't believe it coming from me, kid."

But Dean didn't have to move. Before he could even think about standing from his seat, the door to her room opened, and their dad walked inside, closely followed by Sam. "Hey, Dean?" His dad's voice spoke before he had even realized what was happening there. "Have you—" But everything came to an abrupt halt when his eyes fell to her. She was awake, she was alive, and he looked like he had just been slapped around the face. "Alison?" he breathed out, his whole face the picture of shock and relief.

The smallest smile tugged at her lips, something which she struggled to hold as she fought back the tears that threatened once again to spill from her green eyes. "Hey, Dad." she whispered, and her voice cracked with emotion at the words.

Her dad didn't respond at all for a moment, he didn't look as though he had registered her words at all. He opened and closed his mouth, but nothing left him, he didn't even blink. He managed to conjure up a small yet broken smile of his own, a mixture of both happiness and pain. "Hey, sweetheart." he replied, barely audible in the quiet room. He stared at her, his eyes searching her carefully, intently, as though he was just waiting for her to dissipate into thin air right before his eyes.

Her dad took a step towards the bed, never thinking twice about it, and his arms wrapped around her tightly. His breath was held and his eyes were squeezed closed in attempt to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. He had come so close to losing his daughter, and to have her there was too much for him to understand. He didn't understand. After everything they had been through the past couple of weeks, it didn't feel real. None of it did. He felt her hands clutch to the back of his shirt, unwilling to let go, in a way that she hadn't done since she had been little.

He pulled back enough to face her, and he smiled. "Glad to see you awake." he said softly. "You really gave us a scare this time."

Alison nodded, and she looked down for a moment, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, Dad." she whispered. "For all of it."

But John shook his head at her. There were tears in his eyes, ones that she just couldn't ignore. It was a look she had never seen in her father's face before. Alison had always been a daddy's girl, for as long as she could remember. Her father was her rock and her friend at the same time, he was someone she could share jokes and bicker with, but he was someone she knew would stand and fight for her through anything. Something about seeing the strongest man she knew sitting there looking the way he did scared her, and there was a horrible feeling of guilt in the pit of her stomach in knowing that she had been the one to cause it.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, his eyes searching hers for some kind of confirmation, or some sign that she wasn't. "Really?"

"Yeah," Alison nodded slowly, and a soft smile came to her face. "I'm okay, dad."

John nodded slowly, and he seemed to believe her. He leaned forwards and placed a soft kiss to the top of her head as he moved to stand, his hand holding hers for a short moment longer. He took a step back from her and smiled.

Alison's eyes moved from him to her younger brother, and the look she saw in his eyes scared her. He looked worn down, afraid, hurt.

"You're a hard girl to find, you know that?" Sam smiled down at her, shaky, and he took a seat on the edge of the bed.

Alison didn't hesitate, she reached forwards and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Thank you." she whispered.

"You scared the hell out of us, Ali." he muttered. She felt his shoulders shake the slightest bit, and she held onto him a little tighter. "Don't do it again, Alison. Please?" His voice was pleading, desperate, but it was soft enough that she was sure only the two of them had heard it.

"I won't." she assured him, and her hand subconsciously rubbed the top of his back soothingly. "I promise."

The tears once again fell from her eyes, disappearing into his shirt, she was unable to hold them back. She wasn't even sure why she was crying anymore, whether it was happiness or sadness, guilt or relief. She was happy, of course she was, however overwhelming it was, she was right back where she belonged, and she was holding one of the two men who had brought her home again. For the first time since she had left to hunt that shifter, she didn't feel as though she was alone in the world. But there was something in her that couldn't let go of the guilt, the shame, the feeling that she had caused her family so much pain. And it physically hurt.

Her arms secured around him tighter, firmer, when she felt his shoulders give the smallest shake. Alison knew that he would never willingly let on that he was so upset, about anything, and so she said nothing. There was no denying his sorrow when the softest whimper escaped him, or when he drew a shaky breath and squeezed her harder as he tried to hold it all together. She still said nothing as his hands fisted tightly in the material of her hospital gown, unwilling to let go.

Alison pulled back enough to face him, and she grinned as she wiped the tears from his cheeks. "I missed you, little brother."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I missed you, too." He let go of her, but he didn't move from where he sat on the edge of her bed.

Alison cleared her throat, looking away from them for a moment. There was only one person missing. "Where's mom?" she asked, anxious.

"She's just talking to your doctor." Her dad told her, and there was a softness to his voice. "She'll be right here."

And, as if on cue, the door to the room opened once again. Mary's eyes went wide at the sight of her, and she looked torn between laughing and crying. Tears immediately filled up in her eyes and the colour drained right from her face. "Alison?" she breathed, the relief was more than evident in her voice, and a smile came to her face. She all but ran to her and threw her arms around her, holding her tightly. "Are you okay?" she whispered, but Alison couldn't get a word out. She couldn't speak, her voice was lost. "Alison?"

Slowly, she wasn't sure how, she found the strength to nod. "I'm okay, Mom."

Mary pulled back enough to look at her but she didn't let go, her eyes found hers and she breathed out the breath she had been holding for so long. It was somewhere between a laugh and a cry, she wasn't sure which. She didn't know what to do, everything was happening at once, it was all too much, too overwhelming. "Alison." she cried, like she didn't know what else to do, as her breathing became heavier. Her arms wrapped around her once again and she clung to the daughter she had come so close to losing. "Thank God you're okay." Her arms were shaking as she held her closer.

Mary didn't know how long they sat there, arms wrapped around each other, it was like time had stopped and there was only the two of them in the world anymore. Suddenly, what had happened didn't matter so much, where she had been, what she had been doing, everything there was nothing but love and relief. Alison suddenly felt so small in her arms, so little compared to her, as if she was her little girl again. She had her back again, and that was all that mattered anymore. She pulled back enough to look at her. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, as though she were going to say something but her head just wouldn't allow her to bring the words together. Gently, she wiped the tears from her daughter's face and a small, shaky smile came to her face.

"I'm so sorry, Mom." Alison said, and her voice, little more than a whisper, cracked at the words. "For all of it, I'm sorry."

Mary shook her head slowly. "How could you get into something like that, Alison? I mean... How?" She didn't look angry, she just looked as though she wanted to understand. She looked confused, curious. "Why didn't you tell us what happened?"

Alison gave a small shrug. "I didn't think you'd believe me." she muttered. "I mean, it's not exactly the most convincing story to tell."

John shook his head, and he stepped forwards. "More to the point, why didn't you tell us?" he asked, turning to Dean.

Dean sighed, shaking his head, and he leaned back a little in his seat. He looked at a loss, like he didn't know what to say. "This wasn't his fault." Alison cut it, automatic, before he even had the chance to think up a response. "I asked him not to tell you. He wanted to, don't blame him."

"No, they're right." Dean told her, giving a shrug. "I should have said something. I should have stopped you. I'm sorry, Ali. This shouldn't have happened to you."

"Dean," Alison sighed. "This isn't your fault, alright? You warned me, you told me to stop—"

"Yeah, and I should have made sure that you did." he countered, defensive. "I knew what you were doing out there. I'd seen it. I knew how dangerous it was, and I let you carry on."

"You didn't know, Dean." she insisted. "You didn't know that this would happen. Neither of us did."

Dean scoffed, as though the idea amused him. "Well, I should have known." he muttered. He pulled a hand down his face and looked away from her, from all of them. She could see, the only person he was angry with was himself.

Mary looked between them slowly, and there was a fond smile on her face. "Do you two ever stop fighting?" She sighed. "Look, no one's to blame for this, and no one's in trouble. It's over, all that matters is you're all safe." She looked back to John, and he offered her an encouraging nod. It was time she knew. "Would you mind giving us a minute?"

John nodded slowly, and he made a move towards the door, gesturing for his sons to follow.

* * *

 _Missouri — Riverdale Hospital — 0_ _9:37_ _AM._

Dean headed through the waiting room of the hospital, aimless. It was much quieter than it had been before they had been allowed into Alison's room, but that had been hours ago. They were all tired, they were all stressed, and it had been the longest night of their lives. He looked over towards Sam and he sighed. There was a thoughtful frown fixed deep within his features, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was running through his mind. He looked miles away, staring ahead at the floor blankly. A part of him knew he was probably still pissed at him about everything that had happened, and maybe he didn't want to speak to him. But he looked too distracted for Dean to just ignore it, and so he headed towards him.

He dropped down into the empty seat beside him, but Sam didn't look up, or even seem to notice his presence. "You alright, bro?" he asked, calm, casual.

Sam gave a slow nod but he didn't blink. "I can't believe this." he admitted quietly. "I can't believe any of this is real."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah, tell me about it." he muttered. "Wacky night, huh?"

Sam looked up to face him, and it was only now that things had started to make more sense to him. Dean had known all along that Alison had been sneaking around hunting monsters, he had done it with her, and that was the only reason he'd had to believe that she might still be out there somewhere. He couldn't even imagine the fear he'd experienced knowing what was out there with her, knowing that something not human had taken her, and it was only now that he understood his reluctance to tell him everything.

"Hey," He cleared his throat and steadied his voice. "About what I said to you—"

"You were right." Dean stopped him before he could even think up an apology.

"No, I wasn't." Sam replied bluntly. "Same situation, I don't know what I'd have done. You saved her life, Dean."

Dean sighed lightly and leaned back a little in his seat. "Little Ali," he pondered. "Who would've thought it, huh?"

Sam nodded. "She always was tougher than we ever gave her credit for."

"You both are." Dean said simply. "I mean, I know we didn't really talk about what happened before I got home, but," He shrugged. "I know, situations reversed, if I'd have been at home through all of that, the cops, identifying her body, I couldn't have done it." Sam didn't respond to his words, but he saw his face darken as he thought back and he instantly regretted saying anything about it at all. "I'm not asking you to talk about it, but I just wanted you to know that. I don't know anyone else who could've done what you did yesterday. I know you probably thought that I was crazy, and you still stuck with me."

Sam smiled a little. "It might have crossed my mind." he quipped. "But I'm glad I did. I'm glad she's safe."

Dean nodded slowly. "Where's Dad?" he pressed, curious.

"He, uh, went to get coffee, I think." Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

"Hm. Coffee sounds kinda good to me right now, you want one?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet.

But Sam shook his head. "I'm good." He gave a tired smile. "I'm just gonna wait here."

Dean gave a nod and he crossed the waiting room of the hospital. He turned the corner at the reception desk and his eyes fell to his father. Something dropped in his stomach, and he was torn between heading towards him and turning back. He sat at the table he and his mother had been sitting at, his head in his hands. There was something about the look on his face that he just didn't like, and he knew he was thinking about Alison, and how close they had all come to losing her that night. He couldn't determine whether or not he was angry with him or simply worried about his daughter, but he couldn't avoid him forever, that much he did know. Shaking his head to himself, and plucking up the courage, he walked over to him, cautious. He didn't even appear to have noticed that he was standing there, either that or he was choosing not to acknowledge him. Dean couldn't decide.

"Dad?" he pressed, wary. "Look, I get why you're pissed at me, I know that I should have said something—"

"Dean, I'm not angry at you." he said simply. His hands dropped to the table and he sat up a little straighter to look at him. There was a frown on his face as though Dean's words had confused him.

Taking the chance, and admittedly a little surprised, Dean sat opposite him. "You're not?"

John shook his head. "No. I know how hard it must have been for you, I know how it all sounds." A small smile crossed his face. "I remember the day your mom told me. First image that came to mind wasn't a vampire, wasn't a werewolf, wasn't even a demon. You know what it was?"

Dean smiled. "You visiting mom in a straight jacket?"

John chuckled. "I'm guessing you had the same one?"

Dean huffed a laugh. "More than once."

"You knew that something was wrong. From the minute you came home, you knew there was something off with her." He shook his head slowly, there was a look of guilt behind his eyes, and he knew that he blamed no one but himself for what had happened. "We should have noticed. I should have noticed. I mean, if you hadn't, if you hadn't followed her that day—"

"Don't, Dad." He thought back to his mom's words, and he knew that she had been right. They had to let it go. "Ali's safe. That's all that matters anymore."

His dad nodded in agreement. "You saved your sister's life tonight, Dean. I don't know anyone else who could have done what you did. I'm proud of you." He paused, and a smile crossed his face. "All of you."

* * *

 _Missouri — Riverdale Hospital —_ _09:53_ _AM._

Mary smiled a little as she relaxed back against the pillows behind her. Alison was lying beside her on the bed with her head rested against her shoulder, and her hand gently smoothed through her blonde hair. The only thought on her mind was that she finally had her daughter back in her arms, and how close she had come to losing her. Neither of them had spoken for a long time, and she knew that it was time to say something, it was time for her to know everything she had already told her brothers. It was time that she finally understood the family she came from.

"Alison," Her voice was soft as it broke the silence. "I need you to listen to me when I tell you this." She sighed, and Alison shifted a little to look up at her, seeming to note the seriousness in her tone. "I've done this myself, I hunted for a long, long time before I met your dad. And, I know it's exciting, and I know how easy it is to get pulled into it, I was exactly the same at your age, but, trust me, it doesn't stay that way forever. It gets harder and harder the longer you do it, and once it goes too face there's no getting out of it again. Believe me."

Alison was silent for a long moment, and there was a frown on her face that indicated nothing but confusion. "What?" She sat up to face her properly. Her eyes were wide, unblinking. "What do you mean you've done this before? When? How? Why?" She frowned deeper, lost. " _What_?"

"I hunted, Alison. For a long, long time." Her voice remained nothing but calm, and she offered a small shrug. "You could have told me."

Alison simply stared at her, as though she couldn't comprehend what she was being told. There were a million different thoughts running through her mind and she couldn't even think of which to voice first. "Mom," She shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll tell you everything, I promise. But, Alison, _please_ , don't do this anymore." There was a plea in her eyes. "You're so young, you don't need that kind of darkness in your life. I don't want to lose you again." Tears filled up in her eyes. "I can't lose you."

"Mom," Alison sighed. "I'm sorry."

But Mary simply shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, Alison." she said softly. "I understand, I really do. And I'm not angry. I just want you to be safe."

Alison nodded. "I won't do it again, Mom." she said softly. "I promise."


	24. Goodbye Is Never Forever

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter!_

 _Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 **Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: Goodbye Is Never Forever**

 _Missouri — Riverdale Hospital —_ _11:21_ _AM._

The past couple of days had been nothing like anything Dean had ever experienced before in his life, and something he never wanted to go through again for as long as he lived. They had been horrendous, terrifying, draining, and a part of him still wasn't sure how he had gotten through them with his sanity still in check. Everything that had happened since he had caught that plane home had pushed his faith to the limits, it had tested his patience and put a strain on his family like never before. Dean had seen things he never thought he would, gotten through things he never thought he could, and he had found out things he could never have imagined. The past couple of days had changed everything for both him and his family, yet a part of him couldn't help but think that maybe it had brought them all closer.

And, aside from everything, he found himself unable to hold back the smile that kept creeping up on his face. He sat on the bed beside his sister, who was much more alert than she had been before, content. She sat up, legs folded beneath her, and there was a soft smile on her face, something that he had missed. Dean had raided the vending machine in the corridor and between them they sat and watched an old horror movie on the small television the hospital room had to offer. Their parents and brother had long since retired to a motel to get some much craved sleep, but he had stayed. He wasn't going anywhere. Not until he had no choice in it.

"Just like old times, huh?" He grinned down at her, tossing up a piece of candy and catching it in his mouth.

Alison huffed a laugh, as though amused by the idea. "I think some things might have changed since the last time we did this." she offered. There was a seriousness behind her tone, one that told him she was still thinking hard about what had happened, not that he could blame her for that. It hadn't left his mind, either, and he doubted it ever would.

But all Dean did in response was shake his head at her. "Nothing too important." he countered. "You still have a lame taste in horror movies."

"Hey, night of the living dead is, and always will be, a classic." she told him, defensive. "And you _love_ this movie, Dean. I know you do. Don't even try to deny it."

Dean rolled his eyes, and he threw a small bag of candy at her. "Shut up."

Alison rolled her eyes at him, and he couldn't help but notice that she appeared so normal, so okay, as though nothing had ever happened to her. He didn't believe it for a second, and he couldn't determine whether she was trying to convince him or herself that everything was alright. It was more than likely for his benefit, because he knew his sister, and she would never willingly sit there and tell him that she wasn't okay if she had the choice. But that was the problem. He wasn't going to be there forever, and when her act came crashing and burning down around her, when things got bad enough that she just couldn't keep it up anymore, he would be gone.

It was a hard thing to ignore that it was the last time he was going to see her for a long while. After everything that had happened between them all in the past couple of days, after everything that she had been though, everything that she had seen, he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to be there when she was released from the hospital, when she returned home to the town where everyone had believed her to be dead, where there were sympathy cards in the living room and flowers with cards that said sorry for your loss. His sister hated the attention being on her, and she was going home to a place where he knew she was going to be the girl who came back from the dead. He wanted to ensure that she was alright, because he couldn't even begin to imagine how she was going to deal with everything she had experienced, a lot of which he still didn't know about. He wanted to know, he wanted to understand every last detail, but he couldn't bring himself to ask her. He knew that she didn't want to tell him, whether she didn't want to talk about it or she didn't want him to know, he couldn't determine. But he wouldn't make her tell him, not if she wasn't ready.

Whatever the fallout was, if there was one, he wasn't going to be there to help her through it, and that hurt. More than he would admit.

"You've gone quiet." she commented, looking up at him. "What are you thinking so hard about?"

Her soft voice pulled him back from his thoughts, and he didn't miss the slight concern in her words. A smile came to his face, and he pushed back the thoughts, because it wasn't a conversation he was prepared to have just yet. "I'm trying to work out who'd be more badass on a hunt," he replied, as though there was nothing wrong. "You or mom."

Alison's brow furrowed to a frown, and he knew that she didn't believe that was what he had been thinking about, but she didn't comment. "I can't believe that mom did this." she replied simply. "I mean, she's so," She paused, as if searching for the right word. "Not violent."

"Yeah, tell me about it." he agreed, perplexed. If his sister hunting monsters had taken him by surprise, it was nothing on the confession he had heard from their mother. "Just imagine her swinging a machete through someone's neck."

"Or digging up a grave." She gave a soft laugh. "I bet dad was like you when he found out, all wide eyed and dumb looking."

Dean cracked a smile. "How long are you gonna hold that over me?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "I think it's normal for someone to be a little surprised when they see a ghost. And I'm sure ninety-nine percent of the planet would agree with me on that. We're not all crazy monster killers like you and mom, you know."

Alison smirked. "See, Dean, what have I always told you about women?"

Dean groaned, exasperated. "They're smarter and more efficient and more badass than men." he remarked, quoting the words he had heard from her a million times in the past.

"Exactly." She smiled up at him, smug. "And you see now why I've always been right about it?"

Dean shook his head at her. "I'm still not agreeing with that, and you'll never make me agree." he challenged. "You couldn't even keep me out of your laptop, Ali. You're hardly the CIA."

" _But_ , would an employee of the CIA know how to burn a ghost or kill a vampire?" she rebuked, raising her eyebrows at him. "These are the questions you've gotta ask yourself, Dean. I was providing a national service."

Dean stared at her for a long moment. "You're so messed up, you know that?" He smiled fondly. "I've missed you, kiddo."

"Of course you have." She smirked up at him. "I'm a good sister."

Dean rolled his eyes, and he nodded. "Yeah, I'll give you that one. Just because you're in the hospital with a chunk of your head flesh missing." he remarked, and his eyes lingered on the bandage at her hairline for a moment. "That's gonna leave you a pretty badass scar, by the way. I'm impressed."

Alison laughed. "Yeah, me with my vampire hunt gone wrong scar and you with your bullet wound. We make quite the pair."

"Chicks dig scars, Ali." He smirked. "Good luck finding yourself a husband with yours."

Her eyes narrowed, and her head turned to him. "Did you just wish me good luck in finding a husband?" she pressed. " _Wow_."

Dean thought on her words for a moment, and he nodded. "Yeah, that was weird." he agreed. "Scratch that one, no boys. _Ever_."

Alison smiled at him. Things suddenly felt so familiar to her, so safe, so secure, unlike anything she had known the past couple of weeks. But it was hard to ignore how different things could have been, and it was all she had thought about since her mother's confession.

"Hey, what do you think would have happened that night, you know if mom hadn't stopped that thing from getting Sam?" she asked, her voice was quiet, far off, as though she were lost deep in her own thoughts. "I mean, imagine if we'd know about this stuff years ago, do you think we'd have grown up in the same way that mom did?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, Ali." he answered honestly. The same thing had been pressing on his own mind the past few hours. "I think life would've been a lot different. I can't imagine growing up in that life, hunting monsters forever." He shook his head. "I mean, is that even a life?"

Alison sighed. "I guess it is if it's all you've ever known." she offered. "Do you think that's why mom never talks about her childhood? Or her parents? I mean, we've always wondered why we never met them. Honestly, I thought they were dead."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I know." he muttered. "But, what can you really tell your kids about your childhood if it was all monsters and hunting down demons? It's hardly something she'd tell us over dinner, is it?" He sighed lightly, shaking his head at the thought. "Kinda surprising she ended up the way she is now, you know? How do you grow up in so much evil and end up like mom?"

Alison shrugged. "Maybe she never let what she saw change her." she stated. There was something behind her comment that confused him, and suddenly he didn't recognize the look on her face. "Do you think people can change?"

Dean frowned at her, not following. "What d'ya mean?"

"Or, I mean, I guess people can change, but," She shrugged again, as though lost with her own train of thought. "Do you think people can change back?"

Dean regarded her for a long moment, saying nothing. She didn't face him, and she looked nowhere but the bed sheets at her lap. She looked hurt, upset, worried, and he knew whatever concerned her went far beyond their mother's childhood. "What's on your mind, Ali?" he asked, patient, curious, wanting to understand.

"I don't know." she admitted. "I meant what I said to mom, I meant it when I said that I wouldn't do this again, I don't want to." She paused, and he could see the fear behind her green eyes. "What if I'm still her?"

"Still who?" Dean frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I wasn't me when I was doing that job, Dean." she told him. "I was different. I lied, to _everyone_. I sat there and I lied to mom's face, over and over. I lied to you. I lied to Sam, and to dad. I lied to my friends. I was breaking the law, pretending to be a cop, showing up at crime scenes. I was _killing_ people."

"They weren't people, Alison." he stopped her. "And, to be fair, I chopped off a few heads myself."

But that comment only seemed to spur her on further. "See, that's what I mean." she pressed. "I dragged you into my mess and look what happened. You're probably scarred for life. But, you know something, doing all that, I felt like someone else." She looked down from him, shaking her head as though ashamed. "I didn't like that girl."

Dean shifted slightly and moved to sit beside her, leaning up against the pillows. He gave a light sigh, considering his response. "Ali, you weren't different." he told her simply. "And you're not different now. You're the same girl you've always been. And, anything you did, mom's done it, too. She doesn't blame you for this, she doesn't judge you, and she's sure as hell not angry with you. Neither am I." She looked up to face him, and he could see there that she wasn't convinced by his words. There was nothing but guilt in her expression, and he didn't know how to make her understand. "Look, in answer to your question, yes, I do think people can change. But you shouldn't. Don't ever lose who you are, Ali."

"I can't believe what you did for me." she said softly.

"Yeah," Dean scoffed. "You and me both, sister." he quipped, but she didn't so much as crack a smile. She wasn't kidding around.

"It's not funny, Dean." she chided. "You could have been killed, or worse. And so could Sam. Look at what I put mom and dad through."

But all Dean could do was shake his head at her. "It doesn't matter, Ali." he answered honestly, as though none of it could have bothered him less. "I'd do it again, don't ever think that I wouldn't. I promised you that I'd always watch your back, and I always will. Whether that's boys or vampires or the kid at Starbucks not giving you the right change, it doesn't matter to me. Whatever happens, kiddo, I'm always gonna be here for you." He looked down to her, and she seemed to be contemplating his words carefully. "Just, tell me the truth here, are you okay? And, I mean, really?"

Alison thought on his question for a long moment, and he was so sure that she was about to lie to him, but her head gave the smallest shake, and he knew. "I don't know." she admitted. Her voice was small, afraid. "I really don't know anymore, Dean. In that place, just sitting there, waiting... I was so scared. I was so sure that I was gonna die there."

There were tears shining in her eyes, ones she was fighting with everything she had to hold back. He placed a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards him for a moment. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead and rested his cheek to the top of her head. "I've got you, Ali." he told her softly. "You're gonna be fine. It's over. I promise. You're safe." The tears rolled down her cheeks, and he placed his other arm around her, pulling her closer. Her hands gripped to his t-shirt as she cried, unable to hold it back anymore. Everything that had happened over the past couple of weeks spilled out, and all he could do was sit there and hold onto her, and give her something to hold on to. "You know something, Ali, you're the best person I've ever known. I mean that. And, I know I'm gone a lot, and I know that I can't always be here for you like I should be, but I need you to believe me when I tell you that you're safe. I promise you, I'll never let anything happen to you again. I won't let anyone, or anything, hurt you."

Alison sniffled, and she pulled back from him enough to face him. "I believe you." she whispered.

Dean nodded, and he smiled down at her, because that was good enough for him at that point. Right there, he would take that. He wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of his fingers, gently over the bruising that only seemed to have grown darker, and he sighed. "I meant what I said to you, Alison, you'll always be my best friend. No matter what, I will _always_ have your back."

Alison nodded, and a smile came to her face. "Well, I meant what I said to you, too. Back when we were in Colorado." she said quietly. "I think we got lucky." He frowned a little, as if to ask what she meant. "You know Chloe, right?"

"Your friend?" He nodded. "What about her?"

"She has a brother. James." There was a thoughtful frown on her face as she spoke. "He's about five or six years older than her. They never speak to each other. I mean, even holidays, he'll come home for Christmas or their mom's birthday or whatever, you know when they're stuck in the same room, that's all it is to them, they're stuck with each other. And they hate it. They hate each other."

"Huh." Dean couldn't imagine it. "I didn't know that."

Alison shook her head. "Not many people do." she muttered. "She doesn't talk about him, ever. They just never got on, you know? Not every sister gets a real life vampire decapitating superhero for a brother." she quipped, and Dean gave a soft laugh. "I'm glad I got you. I don't know where I'd be now without you to save me."

Dean nodded. "I'm glad I got you, too." he replied, sincere. "Even if you are a pain in my ass, I guess I could have done a lot worse in the sister department." He thought back to what she had said, and he couldn't imagine a world where he and his sister weren't the way they were. It didn't seem real. "I hope you'd be prepared to decapitate a gang of vampires to save my life."

"Wouldn't think twice about it." she remarked. "I would _destroy_ them."

"I don't doubt it." He chuckled. "Not for a second. If you think I'm a superhero for decapitating a few vampires, what does that make you, huh? You're a superhero yourself, Ali. I don't know why you don't see that."

"I think after this week it might be up for debate." she replied, sarcastic.

"Not to me." he muttered. "Whatever anyone else thinks about this, I still think it was all pretty damn impressive. There are people out there living their lives because of you, people who you saved. Nothing can take that away from you, and whatever happened doesn't change that."

Alison smiled a little. "You're so weirdly supportive, you know that?"

Dean snickered. "I'm proud of you, Ali." he told her. "That's never gonna change."

They sat there for a moment, saying nothing, and Dean could almost hear the thoughts churning in her mind. She glanced up at him, seeming hesitant. She didn't want to ask, but she knew that she had to. "I guess you're gonna be heading back."

Dean nodded, somewhat remorseful. "Yeah, guess so."

"I know that you say you don't care, but, for what it's worth, I am sorry that you had to come home because of me, Dean." she told him, apologetic, and he could hear the guilt behind her words. She looked down from him. "Everything that I put you through doing that stupid job. I'm sorry."

"Hey." Dean stopped her, and there was a soft frown on his face. "It's always good to be home, Alison, even under the circumstances." He smiled, and she knew that he meant what he said. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"When do you go?" she asked, her voice small, quiet.

Dean seemed reluctant for a moment, and he offered a sorrowful smile. "Tomorrow morning." he told her. "Probably before you're awake."

There was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored his perfectly. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Hey, come on, don't start that." He pushed up a smile, covering up any sadness that had showed itself. "Goodbye is never forever, Alison." he told her softly. "I think we've proved that more than once."

Alison nodded slowly, and a soft smile came to her face. "Goodbye is never forever." she agreed.

They had always promised each other that.

 **The End.**

* * *

 _So, that's it, guys! Hope you enjoyed!_

 _Let me just say a huge thank you for the reviews, for adding the story to your favorites, and for taking the time to read. Thank you for the PM's, the story prompts and ideas I've been sent. Your support means the world to me, you keep me writing!_

 _Love you guys!_


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